


Chains of Hate

by DeodorantDodo



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Death, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Fingering, Fluff and Smut, How do you tag these things, I'm sorry but rly not, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Entity AU, Sex, Torture, Violence, all in all a good ol' time!, also I love writing angry characters yeyyy, and I try to contribute, but we desperately need more deathslinger smut around these parts, but yeah there's obvs gonna be some, cry wanking :)))), my asexual ass is too noob for this, yeehaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeodorantDodo/pseuds/DeodorantDodo
Summary: Caleb Quinn is engaged to the most perfect woman in the world, Zarina Kassir. He's got a good job that pays alright and a house to call his own. He's got his life together. That is, until things take a turn for the worse. Hate is a powerful force and motivator, and sometimes not even the greatest love can save us from our own rage. Choosing a path of hate is choosing a path you must follow until the bitter end.
Relationships: Caleb Quinn | The Deathslinger/Zarina Kassir
Comments: 24
Kudos: 36





	1. Love of My Life

**Author's Note:**

> Hope yer all doing well! <3
> 
> I love the Deathslinger and his lore, and it was only a matter of time before I wrote about him. Originally I didn't plan on pairing him with Zarina, and I still don't rly feel too much about this pair, but they seemed like a fitting couple in this here story so I rolled with it. They are a bit alike in a way, or atleast they've had the same kind of experiences, so yeah. 
> 
> Basically I wanted to explore Caleb's story a bit more, give it my own style and put a love interest in the midst of all this chaos and tragedy. I'm a sucker for a sad love story, what can I say? :D This isn't going to be as in dept and fleshed out of a story as I normally would make, I just have alot of thoughts and stuff I want to blast out here.
> 
> English isn't my first language, I write most of this in the middle of the night, yadda yadda, get on with it!

The late afternoon sun was still warm and pleasant, not as burning hot as during the midday. Caleb preferred this time of day, not just because of the sun's mercy but because he got to go home for the day. Working at the railroad with the boys was good fun and all, but he would always choose coming home to Zarina over any work in the world. Before meeting Zarina, Caleb thought honest work was the meaning of life. And as good as it felt to finally be appreciated for his engineering skills and get paid to do what he loved, Zarina topped all of that. She was his fiancé, soon to be wife, and Caleb thanked his lucky star every morning for having her in his life. Of course, loving a Lebanese immigrant wasn't a walk on flowers. Townsfolk often side eyed them, talking behind their backs as soon as they thought Caleb didn't notice. But he noticed, he knew what they were saying. He knew some of the kids from Buckberry farm wanted nothing more than to vandalize their house, and Caleb guessed they wouldn't mind getting a few punches in on Zarina. He also knew he would never, ever let anyone lay a hand on Zarina.

"Easy, girl..." he murmured to his horse, Laurie, stroking her mane to calm her down when a murder of crows startled her.

She was a bit of a chicken-hearted gal, this one, but when Zarina's father had been brutally murdered years ago she had gotten Laurie in his will, and since she wanted to stay at home these days, Caleb got more use out of the old mare. Caleb had come to enjoy Laurie, she was an old and mature companion. The sun was hitting his back as he rode onto Salt stone hill, stopping at the top to look down the valley where his house was. He could see smoke coming from the chimney, and a smile crept to his lips, knowing Zarina was at home waiting for him. He urged Laurie on, and they rode down the hill towards the log cabin. There Caleb led Laurie to her little stall, and walked up to the front door of the cabin. He removed his hat from his head and put it to his chest, before opening the door and entering. Zarina thought he was silly whenever he did that, saying he didn't have to enter his own home like that. But Caleb believed in manners, and he never wanted to stop showing manners towards the love of his life. As soon as he stepped into the cabin, he was met with a joyful:

"Darlin'!"

Zarina threw herself into his arms, planting sweet kisses on his cheeks.

"Finally you're home, I was beginning to think I'd have to eat dinner by myself!"

Caleb laughed and kissed her back, looking into those dark brown eyes.

"I missed ya somethin' terrible today", he mumbled, kissing her again, this time longer and deeper.

She smelled like lavender and bluebonnet, a scent that Caleb loved. He sniffed her hair, moving down her neck, sniffing and placing playful kisses along the way.

"Stop it, you charmer", Zarina laughed. "Dinner will get cold.

"Fair enough, I'll get ya later then", Caleb grinned, giving Zarina a playful, almost devilish smirk that she mirrored.

God, he loved this woman.

After they had finished dinner, they cleaned the pots outside and left them out to dry. The sun was setting quickly now, casting golden rays over the valley. Caleb loved the view here, and he enjoyed the silence that came with it. They lived outside of town, far from any neighbors, with only the occasional coyote or flock of crows as company. He looked at Zarina, who was drying off the wooden bench they had cleaned the dishes on. Something seemed off with her, he thought. Her eyebrows were burrowed in concentration, and she seemed to be far off in her thoughts. She was usually very vocal about her thoughts.

"Somethin' the matter, honey?"

"Hm?" Zarina hummed and was ripped out of her pondering. "Oh, I just- No, it was nothing."

Caleb lowered one eyebrow in a questioning manner.

"You sure? Never seen you quite so mysterious."

She laughed without looking at him, finishing off the bench and spread out the towel so it could dry too. 

"It's nothing important, just some silly rumors. Don't make me repeat silly gossip", she smiled and turned towards him.

Caleb studied her a bit more, then shrugged and put his arm around her.

"My future wife, never gossiping again, eh?" 

"I don't think I've been too keen on the gossiping to begin with?" Zarina chuckled, and Caleb cheekily pinched her bottom so she squeaked in surprise.

"And I beg to differ", he grinned, meeting Zarina's shocked, but amused gaze. "What say you we settle this like adults?"

Zarina gave him one of those smiles that he could die for, winking her eye and taking his hand. 

"Take me to court then, charmer."

The sun had set, and twilight turned into night. The hot desert air turned cool, and the crickets were serenading the valley like they'd eagerly done every other night. Inside the log cabin, the darkness of the night had crept into every corner, except for in the bedroom. Wax candles bathed the bedroom in a warm light, providing both a source of light and keeping the chill of the night at bay. But underneath the cotton covers, chilliness was the last thing Caleb and Zarina were bothered by. Passionately kissing and running their hands all over each other, they kept the heat pretty well. Caleb had removed his shirt and trousers, and Zarina was wearing only her undergarments, but Caleb was eagerly trying to fix this. Laying on top of her, he started kissing and sucking on her neck, stopping to place a couple of discrete bruises. He felt Zarina's pulse pressed against his lips, and reveled in feeling it rise as he moved his hands to her breasts and started massaging them. She let out a soft breath and arched her back a little, and Caleb took this as a go for him to start unbuttoning her undergarment. He was quick in his work, and soon she had slipped out of her top and her breasts were exposed to the beam of the candlelight. Caleb took a moment to eye her where she lay.

"By God, you're so beautiful, Rina", he mumbled. "I love you."

Zarina quickly grabbed a hold of the back of his head and pushed him back down to kiss her. The kissing was deeper, more hungry now, and Caleb sighed with pleasure as she dug her nails in his back. He pressed his crotch against hers, and she spread her legs willingly, running her nails over his bare back and sending chills down his spine. He trailed his fingers down her underskirt, pushing the frills up so he could caress her inner thighs. She breathed into his neck, moaning softly as he started gently stroking her fanny. She was so wet already, it drove him crazy in an instant. He fingered her in a slow, teasing pace that he knew made her squirm in pleasure. Her breathing got louder, she let out occasional moans that were like music to his ears. Caleb picked up the pace of the fingering, tongue deep down her throat, but suddenly she stopped kissing him. Before Caleb could react, she pulled out his hand from inside of her, grabbed him by the shoulders and whispered with a wicked grin:

"On your back, charmer!"

And in one swift motion she had him on his back and started working his drawers. She quickly got them off him and tossed them aside, then she grabbed his hard cock in her hand and straddled his lap. Caleb let out a pleased sigh and watched as she started stroking him in a quick pace, spreading his pre-cum all over his shaft. She looked him deep in the eyes and said:

"You ready for me, judge?"

"Oh, you bet I am", he breathed out with a grin, and helped her position herself on his lap.

She guided his cock into her with her hand without taking her dark eyes off him. They both sighed in pleasure as Caleb pushed himself all the way into her, Zarina bending down and quickly giving him a few kisses before sitting back up on his lap. She put Caleb's hands on her hips and started rocking back an forth on his cock in a steady pace. Caleb grunted in pleasure, lifting up her skirt so he could see where he entered her. He pressed a thumb against her clitoris and started rubbing, and she instantly threw her head back and let out a sharp moan into the night. Her pace quickened, and Caleb was almost seeing stars himself by now.

"You absolute beast of a woman..." he sighed, and she looked at him with that gorgeous smile and laughed.

They sped up the pace even more, Caleb thrusting into her whilst still rubbing her clitoris until she started twitching and breathing even louder. She clawed at his bare chest, throwing her head back and Caleb dug his nails into her hips and thrust into her even harder. He was nearing as well. When she screamed his name with a final twitch, he filled her up with his seed, clasping at her bottom and grunting loudly. She collapsed onto him, a shaking, sweaty mess, laughing into his hair but keeping still as he pumped out the last of his cum into her.

"I love you", she whispered into his ear, kissing his cheeks and mouth between her panting.

Caleb chuckled, out of breath as well and even more sweaty than his lady.

"You're a magnificent woman, Zarina..."

She rolled off him and he spread out his arm so she could lay her head on it. She kissed him and cuddled up beside him, playing with the sweaty strands of hair stuck to his face.

"You weren't too bad yourself", she giggled, receiving a pinch on the nipple that made her squeak in delight. 

They laid like that for a couple of minutes, catching their breath together and caressing each other. Then Zarina pushed herself up on one elbow, looking at Caleb as if she was to say something. Caleb looked at her and waited.

"I was thinking..." she started, then got quiet. 

"What?"

She bit her lower lip, then continued.

"Well... You know I sent in that report on the escaped cattle from Burns' farm, to the Glenvale papers? Well, they still haven't answered and-"

"They still haven't responded?" Caleb asked, burrowing his brows in disbelief. "You sent that in ages ago, and it was a perfect piece! How could they not-"

"Honey, please", she continued, "I'm sure they're busy folks over there, I don't want to bother them with my attempts at journalism."

"Well, you should!" Caleb said, sitting up in bed. "You shouldn't let them gumps ignore you like that. Christ, Rina, if you'd told me sooner I'd be on their doorsteps demanding-"

"I know you would, Caleb!" Zarina groaned. "That's why I've been putting it off, I know you'd get yourself all riled up about it!"

"Well, I'm only getting riled up because you deserve this, goddamn it!" Caleb said, his voice a bit louder than he'd meant for it to be. "And sometimes I think you don't understand-"

"Caleb!" Zarina snapped him off. "Don't!"

Caleb opened his mouth, but Zarina pointed her finger at him and something about her stare made him shut up for once.

"Don't you start that 'high and mighty' talk again, not this time, mister!" she spat, voice irritated and even a bit angry. "I can take care of this myself, and I want you to trust me when I say that I don't need you meddlin' in this, okay?"

Caleb let out a loud grunt, but refrained from snapping back. Instead he got out of the bed, put his trousers on as well as his shirt and headed for the door.

"Now, where you goin', huh?" Zarina groaned after him, and he mumbled:

"Out for a walk."

He stepped outside and closed the door behind him a bit harder than he'd planned, then he put his hands in his pockets and started walking aimlessly in the night. Fresh air, cricket song, all the things needed to clear a riled up man's head. He scoffed at himself. "Riled up." Maybe that did describe him pretty well. Zarina got annoyed at his temper from time to time, called it "anger issues". He had alot to be angry about, couldn't help that. Always had been that way. He'd never told her about the boys that used to beat him up when he was a kid. Never told her about his parents fighting constantly, his father being openly mocked on the streets for being an Irish immigrant. There was alot about his childhood he hadn't told Zarina, because she didn't need to know. She didn't need to know how he'd started planning small traps and devices to give the boys a taste of their own medicine. He'd never gotten to use them, sadly, but the designs had been good, groundbreaking. He was a good designer and engineer, just like his old man had been. And now his work was finally appreciated, although Bayshore, his boss, didn't seem too interested in his designs. The boys at the railroad loved his nail-shotgun, however. It made all their work so much easier. And his steam powered drill had done wonders to the company. Caleb knew he had to persuade Bayshore a bit more, maybe he'd get a raise. He wanted all of this for Zarina too, that's why he was so persuasive of her going down to the Glenvale papers and demanding a job there as a journalist. She had it in her, after all. One would think after all the abuse and mockery she and her family had to endure, she'd be aware of the ways people use their prejudices to hinder others. But she was unlike him in many ways.


	2. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb goes to work, and thinks it's going to be a spectacular day. How couldn't it be? But the boys at the railroad has some news for him, some news that are going to turn his whole world upside down.

Caleb was awake before the sun had started peeking out from behind the tree tops. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, he had been out wandering the valley for a bit before coming back home to find Zarina deep asleep. He had been tired, but somehow not able to sleep. At last he had given up and gotten out of bed to get a fire going in the stove so he could make some coffee. Now the flames where licking the coffee pot filled with water and grounded coffee beans, and the smell that filled the cabin was as heavenly as ever. It even managed to perk Caleb up a tiny bit. As he removed the pot from the fire, he heard Zarina getting up from bed. He was about to call out and greet her good morning, but she suddenly bolted past him and rushed outside, leaving the door open behind her. Caleb put down the pot and went outside after her.

"Rina?" he called out, just as he heard the unmistakable sound of a stomach being emptied with a sickly, loud splash.

He ran around he cabin to find Zarina on shaky legs, supporting herself up against one of the walls with one hand and her other held on her stomach. She was pale as a sheet, and Caleb quickly grabbed her waist to support her so she wouldn't fall.

"Christ on a stick, you okay, Rina?" he asked, wiping some beads of sweat away from her forehead.

Zarina shut her eyes, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and nodded.

"Yeah... Just got sick all of a sudden... B-But I feel better now."

Caleb studied her as she straightened her posture and wiped the dark hair out of her eyes.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, darlin'", she smiled at him. "Must have slept on the wrong side or sumthin'", she added with a chuckle, and Caleb couldn't stop the smirk growing on his lips as he followed her inside again.

"Might have been something else, ya know..." he mulled, and Zarina, who had grabbed the coffee pot from the bench, turned around and met his playful smirk.

"Don't you get your hopes up yet, mister", she said.

Caleb could see she tried hiding the smirk on her little lips and chuckled slightly.

"Alright, alright", he said and stepped towards her to give her a kiss on the forehead. "Hope the coffee ain't too strong for ya, doll."

They had been trying for a baby for a while now. If Zarina's morning sickness was the blessing they had hoped for, Caleb would be over the moon. He wanted nothing more than to have a big family together with this woman. But she was right, no use getting their hopes up yet. They ate breakfast and drank their coffee together, before Caleb had to head off to the railroads for the day. As he was getting Laurie ready for the journey, Zarina approached him in the stall.

"Listen, I've been thinking", she said, getting his attention as he saddled Laurie. "I'm going to head into town on Friday, pick up some more milk and... swing by the Glenvale papers' office."

Caleb looked at her with a big smile and embraced her in a tight hug.

"I'm glad to hear that. It's what you deserve, honey", he said as he pulled away, kissing her on the cheek.

"I know", she said, straightening his hat on his head. "I'm sorry I got angry at you last night, you were right."

Caleb put the last of his things into the bag on Laurie's saddle, and said:

"I'm sorry too."

He could never look at her as he apologized. He hated apologizing, it made him feel weak, even when it was to Zarina. He hoped she didn't notice this, however, and quickly turned around to give her a last peck on the cheek.

"I might be late today", he said as he got into the saddle. "Bayshore's been working us good, says he wants the railroad finished before autumn."

"Be safe, darlin'", Zarina said and threw him a kiss. "Love you."

"Always am", Caleb responded with a wink, catching her kiss and putting it in his jacket pocket. "Love ya, honeypot."

Then he urged on Laurie, and they rode out of the stall and headed upwards on Salt stone hill. The sun greeted them as they got up on the hill, it's early beams laying down golden stripes on the road ahead. Caleb had a feeling today would be something real special.

The railroad they were building was going to start at Glenvale and go through Demon's Cliff and end in Greedtrails. They had finished off in Glenvale a week ago and were now working pretty close to where Caleb and Zarina lived, which was why Caleb was able to go home at night. Usually the boys slept in cottages out in the desert while working, and Caleb was not envying the others who couldn't sleep in their own beds now. He reached Demon's Cliff as the sun had fully emerged from behind the horizon, and he could see the boys already working away on the tracks. He whistled as a greeting when approaching, and some of the boys took the time to wave at him as he got off Laurie and tied her to a tree near the watering trough. He caught a glimpse of William's boy giving him a look and whispering something to Miller, but didn't pay much notice to it. After making sure Laurie was settled in, he got his nail-shotgun from his bag and went to greet the rest of the boys.

"Fine mornin', ain't it?" he said, looking at Miller who had paused his work with the wooden logs.

"Uh, yeah, sure is", the man answered, scratching his neck and looking over at Williams' boy. 

Caleb looked at the two men, and burrowed his brows.

"What's the matter, someone die?" he asked with a slight chuckle.

They were joined by Wilson and Davis.

"Did you finally get the patent sold, Quinn?" Davis asked, and Caleb gave him a confused stare.

"What are ya talkin' about?" he asked.

"Must've gotten a big raise for it, ey?" Wilson said with a wink of the eye, and Caleb's confusion grew.

"The hell y'all talking about?"

Miller shook his head and turned around to get back to work, mumbling:

"Told you not to bring it up."

Caleb looked at Davis and Wilson, who both looked a bit baffled. Davis cleared his throat and said:

"You mean you didn't... Didn't know?"

Caleb could feel himself getting irritated and embarrassed by this game the men were playing, changing stance where he stood and giving them a questioning stare.

"Didn't know what?"

Davis looked over at Miller, who had his back turned on them and was busy nailing down a board on the tracks. 

"Well, Miller told me he thought he'd seen that nail-gun of yours. On the bench of old Johnson's' shop earlier this week."

The silence that fell between the group of men was sudden and heavy. Caleb stared at the men in disbelief, unable to utter a word. He heard Williams' boy clear his throat and join them. 

"My old man said he... He said he saw it too, in a shop down in Greedtrails. Said they were talkin' 'bout getting a steam powered drill there, soon."

"You mean you didn't sell the patents, then?" Davis asked, looking at Caleb.

Caleb just stood in silence, eyes staring blankly. At first he felt nothing, then, as realization slowly dawned on him he could feel his pulse rising. His body felt warmer, alot warmer, as a familiar sensation coursed through his blood. He could hear the boys ask if he was alright, but he didn't answer. His heart was beating fast in his chest now, fists closing and trembling. He clenched his cheeks. Bayshore. That son of a bitch. The last sensation to spike his body, was the pain piercing through his heart as he realized he'd been fooled. Betrayed. Before any of the boys could ask what he was doing, he'd sprung over to Laurie, untied her and gotten up on her back. Shotgun still in his right hand, he galloped away from the tracks, leaving the boys shouting at him to come back. As he urged on Laurie to run as fast as she could, one thought coursed through his head. One thought only. Bayshore was a dead man.

Caleb didn't think straight now, he knew that. He couldn't care less. Urging on Laurie even more, they thundered through the desert towards Glenvale. This was usually a long ride, but somehow Caleb managed to get to town faster than he'd ever done before. He'd been made a fool of, just like always. Caleb Quinn, the idiot who let everyone trample all over him. Not anymore, never again. He reached the house at the edge of town, Bayshore's office, and nearly jumped off Laurie before she had managed to stop completely. Pulse pounding in his ears, he ran up to the front door and kicked it open with a loud bang.

"Where's Bayshore?" he yelled.

The people inside the lounge stopped in their tracks, all eyes turned on him.

"Now, what the hell's the matter with you, son?" old man Smith said and walked up to him. "You think you can barge in here and-"

Without hesitation Caleb pressed the tip of the nail-shotgun against the man's throat, cutting him off instantly.

"Where the fuck is Bayshore?" he rumbled, staring down on Smith who had turned pale as a ghost and stared at him in fear.

The whole lounge turned silent with fear, no one daring to move. Caleb enjoyed this. He enjoyed seeing old Smith tremble at his weapon, his device.

"N-Now, listen here..." he stuttered without taking his scared little eyes off the shotgun. "Ain't no need to get angry, son... B-Bayshore's in his office, upstairs-"

Caleb quickly turned the shotgun around, hitting Smith in the stomach with the blunt end, making the man fall down on his knees with a grunt. Then he proceeded through the lounge, taking great pleasure in the way the rich bastards cowered away from him. He could barely hear their screams of terror, his pulse was almost deafening now, his heart pumping adrenaline into his body like never before. He made his way up the stairs and without hesitation kicked down the door to Bayshore's office. And there he was. Sitting in his big, fancy chair behind his desk, staring at Caleb like he'd seen a wandering spirit.

"The fuck's all this ruckus about?" he spat, getting up from his chair. "The fuck are you doing here, Quinn?"

Caleb approached, blood boiling in his veins. Without hesitation, he grabbed ahold of Bayshore's tie abruptly.

"You sold my patents, did ya?" he rumbled, piercing the other man with his stare.

Bayshore slapped his hand away from his tie and took a few steps backwards, stumbling into his chair.

"That what this is about?" he said, giving Caleb a sharp laugh. "You pathetic moron, of course I sold the patents! You wouldn't know what to do with the money!"

Caleb's breathing got sharp as a bull's, and he pointed the shotgun directly at Bayshore, getting ready to pull the trigger.

"You made a goddamn fool out of me, Bayshore!"

Bayshore blinked and stared at the weapon.

"Do not point that thing at me, you slack-jawed imbecile!" he hissed.

This line finally made Caleb see completely red. He tossed the shotgun aside and jumped Bayshore before the man had time to react. He didn't need the gun, he was going to tear this man apart piece by piece with his bare hands. Bayshore screamed for his dear life and struggled, but Caleb's adrenaline rush made him much stronger and faster. He punched the ugly face as much as he could, tearing at the hair and ripping out pieces of the scalp along the way. He clawed away at the skin, feeling it peel underneath his nails. The man had to die, he had to die. Suddenly he felt a pair of strong arms grabbing his shoulders and pulling him away from the mauled man. He roared in anger and managed to get himself free, but Bayshore had gotten up from the ground and made a rush towards the door. In the blink of an eye, Caleb grabbed the nail-shotgun from the ground and aimed it at Bayshore, then he pulled the trigger. Nails sprung out from the pipe of the shotgun, just as designed, and hit Bayshore right in the guts. Caleb felt a punch at his head, and he was knocked to his knees. He heard screams around him, and felt someone pulling him up on his legs and starting to drag him away. He tried resisting, but the men carrying him out were stronger. The last thing he saw of Bayshore, was the rich man nailed to his own mahogany desk, face mauled into a bloody mess. Caleb threw his head back and laughed, a raw, guttural scream, as he was pulled out from the office. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That sure was alot of fun! I wanted to make Zarina's and Caleb's life as mushy and perfect as possible, so the sting of what was to come would hurt even more ;) 
> 
> I want atleast another chapter, dealing with Zarina's feelings after all this. Let's see what is to come! Hope everyone's staying inside and staying safe <3


	3. Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb wakes up in the sheriff's office and Zarina gets to say farewell.

Caleb was forced awake by the terrible head ache plowing through his poor head. He felt cold ground underneath him, and opened his eyes. He slowly got up sitting on the floor, his body screaming in pain as he did, and the first thing he laid eyes on was the steel bars in front of him. His stomach dropped instantly, and he forced himself to get up on his shaky legs. He walked up to the bars and glanced at the sheriff's office in front of him. Great, he was locked up. With a heavy sigh he massaged his temples in an attempt to calm down the screaming head ache, and as he did the memories came back to him instantly. The rage he'd felt, the way Bayshore's skin had felt being ripped from his face. Caleb looked down on his hands, they were still covered in the bastard's blood. He even had blood underneath his short nails, and something that looked like strands of hair. He had given that rich pig a real beating, it seemed.

"Well, look who's finally awake. Not to keen on getting beat up yourself, are ya?"

Caleb looked as the sheriff got up from his chair and strutted up to him in his cell. He gave him a cold stare, but decided to change it to a smirk instead.

"Can't say I am, sheriff, but at least the one I beat up had it comin'."

The sheriff scoffed at him and spit his tobacco at his feet.

"If I'd have it my way, Quinn, you'd be danglin' from a tree by midnight. But, seeing as Bayshore survived, they wanna throw you into Hellshire Penitentiary. I've heard being there is a fate worse than death, so maybe it ain't too bad of a punishment for ya after all."

Caleb remained his crooked grin, stale and cold as it might have been. He wasn't going to let Sheriff Goldman get to him, the prick got off on other people's misery, that's why he'd become the sheriff.

"We sent a messenger down to Salt stone valley", the sheriff continued. "Need that pretty little cinnamon bun of yours to come pick up your belongings and your horse before you're off to Hellshire tomorrow."

When the sheriff mentioned Zarina in that tone, Caleb felt his pulse rising.

"Don't you dare talk about Zarina that way", he hissed.

The sheriff whistled and gave him a cocky laughter.

"Hit a nerve there, did I?" he chuckled, leaning on the steel bars with one hand. "I must admit, she is one pretty lookin' thing. Too bad she's one of them dirty rats, comin' over here and causing trouble to us real Americans."

Caleb's fist closed in growing anger, his eyes piercing through the sheriff as if he tried to blast a hole in his head with his gaze. The sheriff noticed that he got the response he was hoping for, and leaned in closer towards Caleb's face, with a smug smile plastered all over his ugly face.

"Ya know, now that you'll be sent away, maybe me and the boys could have some fun with that little spicy lady. Ain't like no one would notice if somethin' were to happen to her-"

In one swift motion, Caleb had grabbed a hold of his shirt collar, and with all the force he could muster, he pulled the sheriff towards him. The loud clank as the sheriff's head slammed against the metal bars made him grin, and hearing the sheriff scream as he pulled away only felt so much better.

"You son of a bitch!" the sheriff yelled, spitting out blood and a tooth in his open hand and staring at it.

"Don't cross a man behind bars, sheriff", Caleb smiled and took a few steps backwards from the angry man just to be sure. 

The sheriff met his eyes and looked like he could have shot his head off right then and there. But before things could escalate even further, the door to the building opened and marshal Hardin entered. Caleb was about to sit down on the floor in his cell, but then he saw who came in after the marshal.

"Zarina!" he exclaimed, straightening his position and walking up to the bars of his cell again.

Zarina didn't answer him, she looked at the marshal, who gave her a slight nod, and approached the cell. Sheriff Goldman gave Caleb a last stare, then backed away to give room for Zarina in front of the cell. Caleb was so happy to see her, he felt all warm inside instantly.

"Zarina, darlin'..." he started, but got quiet when he saw a tear running down her cheek.

She looked distressed, pulling up her flower scarf over her shoulders.

"Caleb, I've heard the worst things", she whispered, and the fragility of her voice almost broke Caleb on the spot. "They say you... That you tried to murder Henry Bayshore this morning..."

Caleb had to look away. He couldn't bare looking into those scared, dark eyes. He didn't know what to say, what to do now. But he heard himself let out a dry chuckle.

"Well... He didn't die, apparently, so..."

What the hell was wrong with him? How could he speak like this to Zarina? When he felt her coming closer to the cell, he looked up at her again.

"Caleb!" she said, voice trembling. "This isn't you! I said that to the marshal, I said 'This isn't Caleb, you've got the wrong man, Caleb would never do something this terrible'!"

Her pained voice was killing him. It killed him, seeing her like this. He couldn't take it. So he looked away, again, staring at the backdoor next to his cell. A silence laid heavy upon the lovers, a silence so heavy you could have cut through it with a knife. Caleb's heart was racing, he felt like he was going to be sick. 

"Did you know?" he suddenly asked, looking at Zarina.

She met his gaze, and he knew she understood what he meant. She bit her lower lip, as she always did when she was uncertain, and slowly nodded, new tears emerging from her jewel eyes. Caleb slammed his hands into the metal bars, making them shake from the ground up towards the ceiling.

"Damnit, Rina!" he yelled, feeling tears burning behind his eyes. "You could have told me, you could have let me know. I've been the laughing stock of the whole town, don't you see that?"

"I didn't want to tell you!" Zarina said, furiously wiping away her own tears. "I was afraid, Caleb, I was afraid of what you'd do if you knew-"

"Well, now you know, huh?" Caleb snapped back, slamming the bars again in frustration and turning away from Zarina as not to show her how hard it was for him to fight the tears.

He heard Zarina sob quietly behind him, but he wouldn't let his heart break anymore than it had already done. He wouldn't let himself get weaker, he couldn't survive that now. So he angrily scratched his face in an attempt to hold the tears at bay without looking like he wiped them away. Then he took a deep breath and swallowed, forcing the sorrow further back, further down.

"I thought you would understand, Zarina", he said, clenching his jaw tightly. 

"Understand?" Zarina echoed. "What would there be to understand? Why could I understand you doing something this terrible?"

"Because you've been here too!" Caleb snapped, turning around to face her again. "You've been mocked, pushed around by everyone in your life. Your father got murdered by a hateful man who wanted your family dead, for Christ's sake!"

At this, Zarina stopped for a second, just staring at him.

"I didn't turn to a life of hate and revenge, Caleb", she finally said, voice trembling but this time by something that must be rising frustration. "I moved on, I tried making this world a better place because of what happened to me!"

She paused for a second, then took a deep breath.

"You, on the other hand, can never let things go. You fill your head with hateful thoughts, towards everyone! I'm not like that!"

"No, you're not!" Caleb spat.

He could feel his hands trembling, so he closed them once again to keep them at bay. She didn't understand, after all. Why had he been so stupid as to think she could? No one had ever understood him, never even tried. He watched his fiancé stare at him from behind the metal bars, and for once in his life he felt like she actually saw him for who he was. And she was scared.

"Caleb, I can't believe this... You've broken my heart."

She put a trembling hand to her mouth, silent tears streaming down her face. As if she wanted this to be a dream, as if she wanted Caleb to be something he wasn't.

"They're going to send you to Hellshire..." she whispered.

The silence was crushing, and he couldn't do anything about it. Zarina was crying in front of him, because of him, and Caleb couldn't do anything about it. So, without letting go of her gaze, he took a step back.

"Well, maybe that's finally where I belong", he mumbled.

Zarina let out a tearful sob, and Caleb watched as she turned around and ran towards the door. Her long skirt was flowing behind her, the setting sun coming in through the open door and casting tall shadows. Her dark hair glistered in the warm sunbeams, as it always did, so beautifully. She never looked back. The door slam shut behind her and Caleb was left alone in the silence. He sat down on the floor, head in his hands, closing his eyes. He could hear the marshal and sheriff talk to Zarina outside, probably settling when she would get his belongings. He thought he would feel sadness, but it had gone way beyond that now. He didn't feel anything. No rage, no sorrow. He was just tired. So tired. The blood on his hands gave off a foul stench that lingered in his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd finish it off here, buuuuuut I'm kinda writing a fourth chapter atm sooo :'D


	4. Welcome to Hellshire Penitentiary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb is put into Hellshire Penitentiary, and quickly finds that the rumors about the worst prison in the South are all true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a look into the life of the inmates at Hellshire Penitentiary. Caleb is enduring it, for now. Also, historical accuracy? Don't know her ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also also: Yet another chapter is confirmed, lmao! At this point I'm not even gonna bother saying "this will be the last chapter prolly" so let's just roll with the punches from here on!

Caleb got woken up early the next morning by the sheriff and the marshal. They came into his cell, dragged him up on his feet and put a pair of handcuffs around his wrists, then they dragged him outside where a carriage was waiting for him. He got in the carriage without any struggle, he didn't care anyhow. The sheriff kept taunting him during the whole ride, telling him how awful it was at Hellshire and how he wouldn't last a week there. He didn't care. When they arrived at their destination it was already high noon, and the sun hit Caleb's eyes as he was pulled out from the carriage by the sheriff. He was met by big stone walls, and an iron gate. In front of it stood a big man with a bushy beard, who stared him down like he was a piece of horse shit. In his hand he held a shotgun.

"This here Quinn?" he asked, and the sheriff responded:

"Sure is. He's all yours now."

Caleb saw another man approach behind the bearded one, this one slightly shorter and skinnier.

"Let's go, scum!", he said, voice coarse and raspy.

Caleb felt the end of the shotgun being pointed at his back, and quickly started walking, following the tall man through the iron gates into the courtyard. There wasn't a single soul on the courtyard, except for a few guards. The prison building towered over Caleb as they approached the front doors. This place was huge, Caleb wondered how many cells they managed to fit in here. When they got inside, the bearded man with the shotgun directed him to a room directly to his left. The skinny man followed and when they were inside he closed the door behind them.

"Remove your clothes, and make it quick!" he snarled at Caleb.

Caleb only stood there, staring at the men. The bearded man was quick to shove the end of his shotgun into his stomach, making him draw a sharp breath of pain.

"He said make it quick, scum!"

Caleb quickly started unbuckling his belt, heart beating fast. He tried not to think of how incredibly humiliated he felt, tried not to listen to the men mocking his skinny body as he undressed completely.

"You're nothing but skin and bones, you little rat", the bearded man chuckled. "You won't last a week!"

Caleb held his tongue, although it was hard not to spit the bastard in the face. He saw the other man reach for a bucket near the door, and the next second he got ice cold water thrown over his body. He managed to bite his teeth together and not scream from the shock, but the men laughed nonetheless.

"Enjoy your last shower, rat!"

Then they threw him a shirt and some trousers, both with a striped pattern, and told him to get dressed. Caleb did so, and they led him out of the room and down a long corridor that seemed to have no end. Caleb had seen other corridors before he was led into this, he wondered how many endless brick tunnels there were here, filled with cells. As they passed the other cells, inmates shouted and cursed at him. He ignored them. When the two men escorting him stopped in front of an open cell door, they removed his handcuffs and the one with the shotgun pointed for him to go inside. He did, and the door was slammed shut behind him with a loud bang. Then nothing. Only silence. Caleb studied his new home. A very small cell, containing only a bed consisting of a plank on four legs, with a thin blanket tossed on top of it. Beside the bed was a small, rusty bucket, Caleb knowing this would be his new fancy toilet. He sighed, and sat down on the bed. His long hair was still soaking wet, dripping water down his shirt and soaking it as well. He tried wrapping the thin, lice eaten blanket around his shoulders, but it didn't provide much warmth. So this was it, huh? Stuck in this hellhole, probably for life. All because of Bayshore. 

Caleb didn't get much sleep the first night in Hellshire Penitentiary, nor the second one. He hadn't been let out of his cell yet, only receiving one meal a day, slid in under his heavy metal door. He laid on the wooden bench most of the days, listening to the outside and keeping his eyes on the tiny peephole of a window that his cell was granted with. He followed the sun as it rose and set, thinking of home and Zarina. He hadn't let sorrow grab a hold of him yet, he fought the pain in his heart every second. During the fifth night in his solitary confinement, he finally caved in. As the moon shone in through his window, and the rest of the inmates got quiet around him, he thought of her. Of her soft lips, her warm, dark eyes. Her smile, her touch, the smell of her hair. He sighed and turned around where he lay, in hopes of finding a more comfortable position so that he could sleep. But his thoughts wouldn't let him. He missed Zarina, so goddamn much it started hurting. He missed the way she spoke his name, the way she held him, stroke her nails down his bare back. He felt a small shiver in his body, thinking of the heavenly touch from her soft hands all over him. He felt his body becoming warm in the cold night, and as he looked down he saw he already had a steady boner going. Fucking hell. He didn't want this, he wasn't going to think anymore of her now. But stopping the thoughts once they were going was as hard as stopping a running train by standing in front of it. Caleb closed his eyes in frustration, but the darkness behind his eyelids soon revealed Zarina, bare chested. He remembered the last time they had made love, when she had ridden him until she screamed his name.

"Goddamnit..." Caleb mumbled to himself, as he got on his back and slid his hand down his trousers to grab ahold of his cock.

He started slowly stroking it, seeing Zarina in front of him, getting ready to straddle him. He quickened his pace, spitting in his hand to get more friction. He saw her taking his cock in her hand and letting it slide inside her. She was so beautiful, as she rode him harder and harder. He grunted with pleasure, fisting his cock hard underneath the blanket. He heard Zarina moan, sigh his name in his ears. He came with a sharp moan, a little bit louder than he'd expected, and prayed to God none of his neighbors heard him. He laid still for a couple of seconds, catching his breath, then quickly dried himself off on his blanket. He laid on his side again, facing the cold brick wall. Then suddenly, he burst into tears. He was quick to hide his face in his arms to try and muffle the sounds, but he couldn't stop the tears from coming now. He cried, feeling the immense pain in his heart spread throughout his whole body like a poison. Curling up into a ball in an attempt to stop the pain, he laid like that for what felt like an eternity, crying out all the fear and pain into the night.

The weeks went by, but Caleb was still alive. Sure, being here was hell, but he managed to keep himself sane by filling his head with thoughts of how he'd end Bayshore if he could. He knew Zarina probably wanted nothing more to do with him, but keeping her in his thoughts helped too. Somewhere in his mind he thought that maybe, just maybe, if he behaved well they'd release him on parole and he could go and find Zarina, and they could start over. It was a far stretched dream that he didn't let himself think of too much, but it kept him going. The rest of the inmates in his ward were all illiterate imbeciles, but luckily Caleb didn't have to be around them too much. The guards had finally let him out from his cell on day seven, and he'd been escorted to a big common room where they forced the inmates to work all day. Caleb had been assigned to sewing shoes, a dull task but one that kept his hands busy at least. He liked keeping his hands busy. They were about 30 inmates crammed into the common room, but they weren't allowed to talk to each other. There were guards undercover wandering the rooms to make sure they knew they were being watched all the time, but they couldn't know by whom. And that's how the days went by. Work in silence in a crammed room by day, sleep alone at night. The meals consisted of a piece of bread, often graced with a few spots of mold, and a pint of gruel that was as tasteless as tree bark. The lucky ones also got a piece of cheese now and then. Occasionally the whistle would blow through the prison, letting inmates and guards alike know that there had been an escape. Everytime this happened, the halls were filled with cheers and whistles from the inmates. The escapee would almost always return the next day, in chains, but that never stopped the rest of them to cheer on everytime an escape attempt happened. It was their last sense of hope, in a way.

Disobedience was greatly punished at Hellshire Penitentiary. For petty missteps, a few buckets of ice cold water were tossed over the inmate and he was left to freeze until he dried up. Talking to other inmates were strictly forbidden at all times, and the punishment for talking was a device they called the iron gag. Caleb had only heard about this device from one of the guards, but he had to admit he was a bit intrigued of what gadget this was. And one early morning, he was about to find out.

The sun had just started peeking through the cell window, and Caleb laid wide awake on his bench, tearing at his fingernails in boredom. He missed his old life something terrible right now, thinking of newly brewed coffee and the fresh morning breeze as he stepped outside to go get Laurie. He spared a little thought of the way Zarina smelled as she had just woken up, then forced his thoughts away from her. He decided to venture longer into his memories, to his childhood. He saw his mother smiling at him, comforting him from just getting his ass beaten by his old man. He didn't remember what he had done, probably gotten into a fight with the kids who teased him. His mother was always there to comfort him though, always singing a tune that he really liked. She used to sing it alot, she'd told Caleb it was a tune from Scotland, where her grandfather had been born. It had been a sad ballad, about two lovers. What was it called again? Demon Lover? Caleb tried his hardest to remember how it went, and soon enough he found the tones deep in his memory. God, he really missed music. It was so quiet here, especially this early before anyone had woken up. A little song couldn't hurt, Caleb thought to himself, and quietly started whistling the tunes he could remember from the song. It felt real good, hearing his mother's favorite song in the silent cell, and he dared whistle a bit louder as the tunes came back to him completely. For a moment, things almost felt a bit normal again, and Caleb almost felt content. This moment was not to last long, however, as he suddenly heard footsteps coming down the hallway. They stopped outside of his cell door, and the next second he heard the keys jangle in the lock. He sat up in his bed and watched the door open and two guards coming inside.

"So, we got ourselves a little songbird, eh?" one of them said, and the next second he dragged Caleb up from the bed and punched him in the gut.

Caleb coughed and bent over, and the guard planted a knee up his face.

"Fuck!" Caleb grunted and held his nose, feeling warm blood starting to drip from one nostril.

"Watch the language, songbird!" the guard laughed, and they dragged him away from his cell.

Down through the hallway they went, some inmates teasing Caleb and yelling insults along the way. The guards led him to a small room at the end of the hallway; the solitary confinement chamber. Caleb started resisting, but he was no match against these two large guards, who easily threw him to the floor of the cell. He quickly sat up, only to get his arms pulled behind his back by one guard while the other grabbed something from his pocket. An iron bar, dangling from a rusty chain. That had to be the iron gag, Caleb thought, and sure enough the guard forced his mouth open and put the cold iron piece onto his tongue and closed it with the chain behind his head. Then he forced his arms up behind his back and tied them together and connected them with the chain that held the iron in place in his mouth. He almost gagged from the taste of the rusty old iron.

"Let's see how well you whistle now, rat", the guard snarled, and then they left him alone in the room and closed the door behind them with a loud slam.

Caleb tried adjusting so his arms wouldn't hurt so much, but it was impossible as the chains dug into his wrists, forcing his arms to stay uncomfortably tied up behind his back. As soon as he tried to relax his jaws, his arms got strained and he had to push them further up his back so the chains wouldn't tear into his cheeks. Not a pleasant device, by far. Caleb tried keeping his mind busy to distract him from the pain, he thought of home, of the railroad. He wondered what the boys where doing, if they had gotten it going to Greedtrails yet. After what felt like an eternity, the door opened and one of the guards met him with a smug smile.

"Feelin' a little less musical now, don't we?" he said, and Caleb only gave him a cold stare while he unlocked the chains behind his back.

As his arms fell down he almost screamed from the pain. They had been tied up so tightly behind his back, releasing them almost hurt even more. And his cheeks were sore as hell. But he didn't let the guard see his pain, instead he put on a slight smirk and said:

"Could need some improvements, that thing of yours."

The guard stared at him, not able to hide his confusion. Then his face got twisted in an angry stare and he spat:

"The hell do you think you're talkin' about, rat?"

"Just saying", Caleb said, massaging his wrists and jaw. "A tighter, smaller chain and some spikes could do wonders."

The guard looked like didn't understand what he was talking about, and Caleb got a bit of enjoyment from seeing him so baffled.

"Shut your mouth, rat!" he finally spat and hit Caleb across the face.

Caleb's face twisted from the pain of being struck in his already sore jaw, and he could feel tears burning behind his eyelids. The guard put handcuffs on him and escorted him out from the chamber and back to his cell. There, he was released from the handcuffs and thrown back into his claustrophobic room, left to tend to his injuries alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The song he's whistling on is called House Carpenter, or Daemon Lover. I luv it <3  
> 2\. The "iron gag" was a real thing in some prisons back then. I tried explaining it as well as I could, but if you're interested in it I recommend googling for better info and pictures.


	5. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb becomes acquainted to the prison warden, and starts doing private work for him. He receives a letter that will put the final nail in the coffin for him.

The weeks turned into months, and the months into years. Life at the Penitentiary wasn't getting any easier, but Caleb got more used to it. He got used to the abuse from the guards, the maggots hiding in the pint of gruel, he even got used to sewing shoes. He was quite good at it now, but he sure missed working on the railroad and creating new gadgets in his workshop at home. He'd struck a deal with one of the guards during his fifth year there. He'd suck him off in one of the stash rooms of the kitchen from time to time, and in exchange the guard gave him napkins and a pen so that he could sketch during his sleepless nights. Caleb would occasionally write thoughts on the napkins, dead promises and dreams, but mostly he'd sketch up improvements for the prison's torture devices. He improved the iron gag, and invented a new head mask that pressed hard metal screws into the temples of the inmate. All on pieces of dirty napkins, tucked away behind a loose stone in the brick wall inside his cell. The thoughts of Zarina had cooled down after year three or so, when Caleb started to realize she wouldn't ever come to visit him. He still held out hope for a letter, but that letter never came. Was she still alive? Did she have the baby? He didn't know, and he had to learn to live with that, as much as it hurt. Some nights he dreamed of her, of the last time he saw her as she ran away from him, crying. The sun always hit her hair in the most beautiful way in his dreams, and as he woke up his eyes were often wet. He knew he had to let her go, but he just couldn't do it.

They got alot of new inmates there regularly, and the people who didn't have life sentences eventually got out. Caleb got to see alot of different men, young and old. Hopeful and broken, dreamers and wasted spirits. During the fifth year Caleb was there, the Penitentiary housed one of the rowdier inmates that had set foot there. This inmate was the young Cormac Walsh, an Irish immigrant like Caleb's parents had been, and he was a handful from day one. His cell was located in the same hallway as Caleb's, and he got to see alot of action that he hadn't seen in years. He saw the boy being dragged to solitary confinement more often than anyone else, and he was always fighting and kicking like a mad dog on his way there. The guards had to escort him in pairs of four, and he was always chained down from tip to toe. Young Walsh got into more fights than anyone at the whole Penitentiary, and no matter how many cold showers he got or how many times they gagged him, they never seemed to break his spirit. He was just one of those lively boys, and Caleb couldn't help but admit he got his fair share of entertainment whenever Cormac was up to something. One Monday morning Caleb's ward got woken up by the sound of a whistle. Not the escape whistle though.

"Cell inspection! Everyone get up and stand by your beds!" a guard called out, and Caleb heaved himself up from his bench.

They had these cell inspections from time to time, but never this early in the morning. Caleb knew the procedure; stand up against the wall opposite of the cell door and await the prison warden that would search your cell. He heard the inmates chattering out in the hallway, asking what was going on.

"I heard Walsh smuggled some tobacco inside!"

"Nah, it was a screw driver, ya gump!"

Caleb raised his eyebrows and stretched his arms where he stood and waited. Walsh again, eh? Not surprised. He heard the cells beside his getting searched, and readied up for his own getting turned upside down soon. Soon enough the keys clanked against the lock of his door, and it swung open to let the prison warden, Mr. Jackson, inside.

"Lookin' awful as always, Quinn", he grunted, and Caleb knew better than to reply.

He watched as Jackson turned his bed on it's head, searched the cotton blanket, checked the corners of his cell and even inside his bucket.

"All clean", he reported to the guards waiting outside, and just as he was about to turn around and leave the cell, fate kicked Caleb in the balls.

Jackson suddenly stopped where he stood and stared at the wall behind Caleb, then he commanded him to move aside. Caleb did so, and watched as Jackson went up to the wall and examined it. Oh, fuck, Caleb thought, as Jackson put a hand up to one particular brick and started jiggling it. He had found the loose brick, and with it...

"The hell...?" Jackson mumbled as he plucked out the brick and reached his hand inside.

Caleb bit his lip and silently cursed himself. He was so done for. He watched as Jackson pulled out a fistful of dirty napkins and started unraveling them. He glanced at the first one, and then looked at Caleb. Caleb had no idea how to read the warden's gaze, but he prayed his punishment would knock him out for good so he wouldn't have to be here anymore. But then, Jackson turned around to the guards and as he did, Caleb saw him tucking the napkins into his back pocket.

"Smith, get him to my office and have him wait there!" he commanded the large guard, and then he left the cell without looking back at Caleb.

The guard stepped inside and grabbed Caleb's wrists and put them in handcuffs, then he forcefully dragged him out of his cell. What the hell was going to happen now, Caleb thought to himself as he was lead upstairs to the warden's office. The guard, Smith, forced him to sit down in a chair at the wooden desk, then he closed the door behind them and stood behind Caleb, shotgun ready for any trouble. And they waited in silence for Jackson to finish up the cell inspections. Caleb glanced around at the office he was in. The walls were decorated with paintings and animal head trophies. A grizzly bear stared him down from the opposite wall, hanging above what must be Jackson's chair. Big show off, eh? Caleb wasn't surprised. This prison was the nation's first private owned one, and Mr. Jackson was the owner. The way he had them work day in and day out, he must have lots of coin in his pocket by now. Suddenly footsteps could be heard outside the office door, and the next second Caleb heard the door open behind him. He turned around and watched as Jackson paraded inside, heading straight to his chair at the opposite side of the desk.

"You can leave us, Smith", he waved to the guard, and Smith left them alone and closed the door behind him.

Jackson sat down in his chair and pulled out the napkins from his pocket. Caleb watched as he placed them on the desk between them and said:

"Mind explaining this, then?"

Caleb looked down on the napkins and swallowed hard. Whatever he would say now, he was probably done for either way. Better just be honest.

"Well, I've been a bit bored, in all honesty, sir", he said, looking up at Jackson and trying to keep his voice cool. "So I started sketching things, small trinkets and gadgets. Improved your iron gag, as well, thought it was about time."

He met Jackson's gaze and hoped he didn't look too nervous. Jackson just looked at him with his piercing, grey eyes, weighed down by bushy eyebrows. He scratched his beard stubble and suddenly let out a rumbling chuckle, shaking his head.

"Didn't take you for such a skilled designer, Quinn. You've been in this game before?"

Caleb blinked a few times and cleared his throat.

"Um, yes, sir", he said. "My old man was a high skilled engineer, passed down all he knew to me. I designed tools and machinery for the United West Rails before I... got locked up here."

Jackson gave him a pondering look, leaning back in his high chair.

"Yes, I was told you were quite a gifted young man. A bit too fierce in the belly, tho", he added with a chuckle, and Caleb tried his hardest to remain his unbothered appearance. 

Jackson suddenly leaned forward and slid the napkins over to Caleb on the desk.

"How would you feel giving me some more of these sketches? I'll provide you with actual paper to ease your work. If the designs turn out actually working, there'd be extra meals in it for you. Can't let a man of your skills starve on this maggot manure they call food around here."

Caleb was silent, baffled. He knew there weren't much to think about here, though. Things weren't going to get any easier for him if he didn't take the chances he were given.

"Well, sir", he said with a smile. "I'd be a fool to let that offer down."

And that were how things continued from there on onward. Caleb would sit in his cell and design new torture devices for the warden to use on his fellow inmates, and in return his meals got fancier and more frequent. He got cheese almost every day, and sometimes even a small piece of meat to accompany the gruel. Mr. Jackson must have let the guards know not to punish Caleb with anything else than cold showers if needed, because Caleb was never put in any torture device ever again. One day the warden called him up to his office, and gave him a letter.

"It arrived during your first year here", he said. "From Glenvale. Not too many inmates get letters around here, so I saved it. I apologize for it being opened and all, security measurements."

Caleb didn't say anything, but he felt his heart picking up in pace as he looked at the letter. He recognized the handwriting, and a feeling he hadn't felt in years started filling his body. He took deep breaths and forced himself to put the letter inside his shirt, to be read when he was alone. Later that night, in the faint moonlight that shone in through the window in his cell, he took it out and studied it more carefully. That was Zarina's handwriting alright. Fine, thin letters, always cursive and dandy. A part of him didn't want to take out the letter from the envelope and read it, and a part of him screamed to do it. What would it say? What if it was full of hate, or of love? He didn't know which one he preferred. He felt his stomach tie a knot on itself from the nervousness, but he knew he had to read it. Heart pounding in his ears, he took out the letter and unfolded it. 

"Caleb.  
My heart aches every day and night without you. But when I think of what you did, not just to Bayshore but to me, to our love, I feel like I'm breaking inside. It's been hard here without you, but I'm managing. I've thought about visiting, sometimes, but only in my weakest moments. Caleb, I'm pregnant. I cannot risk the baby, I cannot risk them getting to hear your voice, for I know it will ruin their future. I cannot let them know they have a father who's in prison, they will have a hard life as it is. I don't hate you, Caleb, know that. I think about you still, even though I don't allow my thoughts and memories to get the best of me. I can't afford that. I'm leaving America soon. I've gotten some new friends who will take me away with them in return for some labor on their ship. I know my future doesn't lie here anymore. Somewhere in my poor heart, I'll always care for you, Caleb Quinn. I hope life treats you well from here on.  
I'll miss you.  
Zarina."

Caleb's mouth was as dry as the desert itself. He bit the thumbnail of his right hand while the other that held the letter was shaking like crazy. He tried taking deep breaths, tried in vain to calm himself but the wave of emotions that came over him now wasn't something easily held back. A child, he had a child. He had been a father this whole time and he hadn't known. And now he would never see Zarina again. Getting up from the bed, he clenched his fist, crumbling the letter in his hand. The chance of him being a father and having a family had been taken away from him, by Bayshore, by this place. His heart was pounding in his chest, he once again felt like he was going to be sick from the rage flooding his heart. Before he could stop himself, he screamed into the empty cell, screamed his lungs out and cursed this godforsaken hellhole for keeping him away from his family. His screams of anger and pain echoed through the silent ward, and soon enough he heard the guards coming running down to his cell. They beat him unconscious that night, and he was put in the isolation chamber for three days. But after this night, Caleb didn't hurt as much anymore. He devoted himself to his labor during the days, and worked on his sketches and designs during the nights. He was going to get out of here, if it so was the last thing he did. He was going to get out, and make sure Bayshore paid for what he'd done to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it with Zarina, right? Or is it...? *dramatic music*
> 
> Stay tuned >:)


	6. Birth of the Redeemer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb is let out from Hellshire Penitentiary, and goes back to his workshop. He now has a new purpose in life, and it's all going to start off with the Redeemer.

15 years had now passed since Caleb had first set foot into Hellshire Penitentiary. Things on the outside had changed, of that he was sure, but inside the prison walls things stayed the same. The Walsh boy had finally seemed to cave in to the crushing spirit of the joint, and things were back to being pretty boring save for the occasional escape attempts. The warden was pleased with Caleb's work on the torture devices, said it had been a real asset to their "rehabilitation work" at the prison. Caleb knew that was pure horse shit, there were no rehabilitation going on here, just stacking away of troublesome people that society didn't want to handle anymore. But Caleb was used to the ways around here now, it was his only home and he had settled in best he could. He didn't think of Zarina anymore, nor his child, he only thought of how sweet it would be to end Bayshore once and for all. It felt like his most attainable goal in life, and he was going to hold onto it until he drew his last breath.

One evening during the peak of summer, the warden called Caleb up to his office. As Caleb entered the office, he saw Mr. Jackson sitting in his chair, and on the desk in front of him were two lowball glasses and a bottle of whiskey, the brand not known to Caleb.

"Sit down, Quinn!" Jackson greeted him, and he sat down in the chair opposite of the warden.

"We celebratin' something, sir?" he asked.

"Of sorts, my dear boy", Jackson responded, opening the bottle of whiskey and filling the two glasses. "Ever tasted Old Overholt?"

He slid a glass towards Caleb, who took it in his hand and sniffed the content.

"Can't say I have, sir", he responded. "We toastin' to something, then?"

Jackson gave him a smirk and raised his glass.

"I've got a new deal for ya, son", he said, eyeing Caleb from behind his glass.

Caleb shrugged and clanked his glass into Jackson's.

"Your deals haven't disappointed before."

Jackson chuckled and they drank the whiskey from their glasses.

"Misery me, that's some good stuff there!" Caleb exclaimed as the warm liquid burned it's way down his throat.

"Sure is, son!" Jackson said, taking another sip from his glass. "Been holding onto this bottle for dear life for years, might as well get some use out of it. I figured since you haven't had a drop of liquor in 15 years, this might be the stuff to start with again."

Then he put his glass down and eyed Caleb. 

"I've been thinking", he said. "Your devices are good, Caleb, darn good. You've never once let me down during all these years. A man of your talent don't belong in here, and I'm thinking of giving you a chance to commute your sentence."

Caleb almost choked on the whiskey as he had just took another sip, and he cleared his throat harshly and looked at Jackson.

"Well, you've certainly caught my attention now, sir", he said, feeling a slight tingle inside his stomach.

If it was the whiskey or excitement, he couldn't tell yet. Mr. Jackson gave him a grin, showing off his brown teeth.

"See, I know you've still got a bone to pick with Henry Bayshore. I've seen the carvings you've made on the walls in your cell, wishin' death upon the poor bastard. Hate is what keeps a man alive, Quinn, it gives him strength. And I think you can use that strength to help me out, outside of these walls."

Caleb took another sip of the warm whiskey, awaiting more information. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, was he actually getting out of here?

"Hellshire Penitentiary hasn't been doing as good as I'd hoped by now", Jackson continued, turning his chair around to look out his window. "Criminals ain't getting caught, the sheriffs are slacking on their jobs. I need someone to bring me the criminals walking free around the country, I need someone to fill my jails. And I think that someone could be you, Caleb."

"As some kind of... bounty hunter?"

Mr. Jackson hummed.

"One could say that, yeah."

Then he turned around in his chair again, now meeting Caleb's gaze.

"Monetary wealth is one thing, but I'm talking bigger here, I'm talking political capital. Working for me has it's benefits, I'm sure you know that. And if you'd take this job, I could make sure that Henry Bayshore gets caught and rots behind bars for life."

Caleb didn't need to ponder the offer for too long. Why would he say no to this? He would get out, and Bayshore would be one step closer to getting what he deserved. And the men he would be hunting down would be criminals anyway, just begging for justice to be served to them. A small voice in his head, however, said that he well knew no one deserved to be put into this shit hole. But he ignored it with another sip from the whiskey, emptying his glass and putting it down on the desk with a determined slam.

"You have yourself a deal, my good man", he said, receiving a big grin from Jackson.

"I knew you'd be smart about this, Quinn!"

He emptied his glass as well and reached out a hand over the desk, and Caleb shook it firmly.

"Glad I have your trust in this. Lookin' forward to your services, partner!" Jackson grinned.

The next week the warden informed Caleb that he was to be released and escorted back to Glenvale. He'd given him some money so he could keep himself fed until his pay started coming in. He'd also given him a shotgun, telling him he'd make sure no sheriffs touched him but that he couldn't guarantee other people kept off him. He also gave him a pair of clothes to change to, and when Caleb walked out from the prison building in his new clothes, he felt better than he'd ever felt in his entire life. The fresh air, the sunshine, it was like a dream. He truly felt like a new man. The warden walked him out, and they stopped in front of the gates where Caleb had stood 15 years ago. A carriage was waiting for Caleb, and before he got inside the warden turned to him.

"I trust you won't disappoint, Quinn", he said and shook Caleb's hand, and just as Caleb was about to bid him goodbye, he leaned in closer and said: "I've got contacts all over the nation, son. Try and fool me, try and evade your end of the bargain, and I'll find you."

Caleb met his gaze and nodded.

"You got nothing to worry about, sir."

Jackson gave him a pat on the shoulder, and Caleb turned around and sat in the carriage.

"I suggest you don't keep around Glenvale too much", he heard the warden say. "Sheriff Goldman is not a man who easily forgives, and he's one I ain't to keen on gettin' into arguments with."

Caleb nodded and turned to the driver.

"You know Salt Stone Hill, a bit outside of Demon's Cliff?", he asked the man, and he got a grunt in response that sounded positive.

The driver urged on the horses and they were off. Caleb didn't know if his house still stood out there in the valley of Salt Stone, but if it did it seemed like the best place to start his new life. If Zarina had been smart, she'd left his workshop untouched, and maybe his tools were still there even. He looked outside the carriage window during almost the whole ride, still not believing he was finally back on the outside. He'd never appreciated the sunbeams like this, never been so grateful for the slight sickness that followed sitting in a moving carriage like this. He was finally alive again, and he was not going to waste this second chance. He was going to bring inmates to Hellshire, and he was going to see Bayshore rot inside his cell there.

The sun was setting slowly as Caleb wandered up on Salt Stone Hill. He savored every sensation he felt out here, the sun, the wind, the sand underneath his boots. He'd been into Glenvale and bought some beans and other foods to keep him filled, careful not to stray too long for anyone to recognize him. Now he was heading... home? Could he call it his home anymore? Who knew if it even stood there anymore. But as he got up on the hill and looked down the valley, a slight smile crept on his lips and he eyed the cabin down there. A bittersweet sting touched his heart, but he pushed it away and continued his way down the hill. As he got up to the cabin, he saw it sure hadn't been lived in for plenty of years. The doors and windows were nailed shut, and the stall where Laurie had used to live was nothing but broken planks and grass stumps. Caleb let out a sigh and started tearing away the rotten boards from the door so he could get inside. This was going to feel strange, he'd prepared for that, but he had to endure. Getting the boards off the door with surprising ease, he took a deep breath and entered his old home. It was dark and dusty, floorboards creaking as he walked in. A dead place, but not as deteriorated as he had thought it would be. He would be able to stay here, at least for now. He knew he had to start a life on the road once he got going with the whole bounty hunting business, but until then he had this as his workplace and anchor. The furniture were still here, the kitchen table and bench and some chairs. He checked the bedroom and found the bed there as well, although no sheets or mattress in it. A feeling wanted to creep in on him, but he kept it at bay. Stay focused, he told himself, don't start thinking of the past. To distract his mind, he searched the drawers of his workbench, and when he found all his tools were still there he got a lot happier. He'd thought Zarina would have sold them, but everything was still there. Even the old wrench his father had given him. The evening was creeping in, and he decided to get a fire going in the stove. He was too excited being free to even think about going to sleep anytime soon, either way. Once a fire was cackling away, he got out the bottle of cheap gin he'd gotten from the liquor shop while he was in town.

"To freedom", he said to himself and opened the bottle and took a sip.

Not too bad for it's price. After he'd let the gin warm him up, he took a look at the shotgun the warden had given him. An old model, popular before he got locked up, but one he was used to handling. It resembled the nail-shotgun he'd shot Bayshore with, and an idea struck his head. During his time in Hellshire, he'd pondered over the nail-gun, and how he'd upgrade it if he'd ever have the chance. Now finally he had the chance, and excitement filled him as he thought of the ways he could modify this shotgun. He could turn it into something real gruesome, something the world had never seen.

The next morning he hitched a ride with an old man that was travelling past the valley to Demon's Cliff, and while there he picked up scrap pieces for his shotgun. He returned home at evening and started working. He worked for many days and sometimes even during the nights, and eventually the shotgun had been modified to something so much more than a shotgun. He'd inserted a harpoon on a chain that could be reeled in once attached to a victim, as well as a spear for close range attacks. It sure was something else, and he felt a weird sense of pride over it. Now he just needed to try it out somehow, and that opportunity came one morning while he was strolling the streets of Demon's Cliff. He'd taken a drink at the inn in town last night, and gone home with a pretty lady who had kicked him out in the morning before her old man got home. So he was walking around town, shotgun on his back, when he suddenly heard someone cry out:

"Stop! Thief!"

Caleb turned around and saw a man running for his life out from the Chinese Laundry. A thief, eh? He quickly got out the gun and aimed down the man, who had just jumped on a horse who stood waiting. Without hesitation, Caleb pulled the trigger, and with a blast the harpoon came flying out from the barrel of the gun and hit the thief straight in the back. The man let out a grizzly scream and fell off his horse, but Caleb wasn't done. Now it was time to try out the second ability of this gun, and he started quickly reeling in the chain of the harpoon with the handle that he had attached to the side of the gun. The man screamed even more as the chain got reeled in, but it didn't really work out as Caleb had planned. Just as he started to tuck on the chain harder, the man let out a pained grunt and with a sickly sound the harpoon tore out the contents of his stomach through his back. The man's scream was cut short, and Caleb watched as the harpoon was reeled back to him, leaving a trail of blood and guts after it on the ground.

"Fuck!" he mumbled under his breath, and quickly placed the gun on his back again.

He looked around, a small crowd had gathered at the scene and people were staring at him with pale faces. He didn't want the sheriff arriving to the scene as well, he had to get out of here, fast. Quickly he got up on the thief's horse and urged it to start galloping. He left town quicker than a rabbit, not looking behind him. He rode until he was home at the cabin, and there he got off the horse and calmed it down.

"Easy, easy", he said to it, petting it's mane. "You're gonna live with me now, I reckon. Seeing as I sort of killed your owner."

It was a beautiful horse, black as the night with a dark mane to match. Caleb took a quick look and determined it was a mare.

"I had a mare named Laurie once", he mumbled. "Think I'll just call you Blackie, is that alright with you?"

He looked into the horse's eyes and gave it a scratch, then he led her out to the backside of the cabin where he bound her to a tree.

"Need to get you some roof over your head", he said and went inside the cabin.

He'd have to rebuild the stall. More importantly, he had to make some tweaks to the shotgun. Couldn't catch any criminals alive if their intestines were ripped out of them. Caleb thought he'd feel remorse for his actions today, but if anything he felt excitement. His pulse was still a bit livid from the adrenaline rush. To see his weapon in action, to see it work so (almost) perfectly. It was a great feeling, one he wouldn't mind chasing from now on. He had to perfect it, he had to make it the best version it could possibly be. As he got it out and laid it on the workbench, he noticed the bits of guts and blood still splattered on the harpoon. He took out a towel and started cleaning it, and as he did he accidentally knocked his father's wrench off the table. He didn't pick it up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a bit longer, had a bit of a writer's block on this one. I'm not one hundred percent sure where to go with the story now, I don't want to end up just straight up copying his lore and calling it a day, but I have a few ideas for coming chapters. I do want to write a bit about the Hellshire gang, so! Stay tuned, and take care of each other <3


	7. The Hellshire Gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb is sought out by a group of freshly released inmates from Hellshire Penitentiary, and the Hellshire Gang is born. For years they roam the country, collecting new inmates to the notorious prison, and Caleb is pretty content with his new life. But faith has a funny way of reminding us of things that could have been, and Caleb is about to be put face to face with what he has tried to forget for so many years...

A week went by while Caleb worked on perfecting the speargun. Once he found it to be as good as he could make it without getting to try it out on anyone, he figured he could start repairing the stall for Blackie. And so, he was outside one morning, nailing the boards for the south wall of the stall, when he heard something in the distance that made him stop his work. Horse hooves, in the far off, but they were approaching fast. Caleb quickly left the stall and went inside to fetch his gun. He seldom got visitors out here, and nowadays he figured he had to be on the safer side. As he got back outside, gun in hand, he saw two men approaching his cabin from the hill. They rode fast, and Caleb didn't waste any time loading his gun in case it would be needed. When they had reached ground level they slowed down their pace, stopping a few meters away from where he stood. Caleb didn't recognize them, but they looked young.

"Can I help you?" he asked with a calm voice, gripping the gun.

"You the old cook with the harpoon gun? The one who mauled Billy Adams?" one of them asked, but the other one jumped off his horse and hissed:

"Of course he is, get him!"

The next second the boy was rushing towards Caleb, knife in one hand, and Caleb quickly tried aiming him down. But the boy was quick, and before Caleb had time to shoot he had jumped him and sliced at his hat with the knife. Caleb fought him off and pushed the spear on the end of the gun through his stomach as hard as he could, and in the corner of his eye he saw the other man get off his horse and reach for his gun. Before he had time to react, a loud gunshot echoed through the valley, and the boy fell down to the ground. Caleb tossed the speared boy aside and reloaded his gun quickly, turning his gaze towards the hills where the gunshot had came from. And that's when he saw them. Almost a dozen men on horses, galloping down the hill towards him.

"What the hell?" he hissed, eyes widening in stress.

He quickly reloaded his gun, aiming down the man riding in the front. With a blast the harpoon flew through the air, missing it's target with just an inch. Caleb swore and reloaded, but then he heard one of the men yell:

"Calm it, Quinn!"

He looked back up at the men, and saw them slowing their pace as they reached him on the ground level. The one in front, long, red mane and beard, grunted and held his side.

"Got me in the side there, ya bastard!"

Caleb watched in confusion as the man got off his horse, and headed towards his cabin.

"Where do ya keep the whiskey?" he asked, and before Caleb could stop him he went inside.

"Don't think you need whiskey for that flesh wound", one of the men muttered, and Caleb turned his gaze to him instead.

"Walsh...?"

He furrowed his brows when he recognized those frenzied eyes and the broken nose. Cormac Walsh chuckled and tipped his hat to him. Now Caleb started recognizing more and more of the men as fellow inmates of Hellshire. All Irish, as far as he was concerned. He heard the man inside the cabin growl:

"What kind of Irishman doesn't have a bottle of whiskey in his cabinet?"

"Get out from there!" Caleb grunted towards the cabin, and Walsh said:

"Jack can sniff his way to any liquid with more strength to it than water, whatever you've got in there is long gone by now."

Then one of the men behind Walsh said:

"You ready to get going, or what?"

Caleb's confusion grew.

"The hell are you talkin' about? What are y'all even doing down here?"

"The warden let us all out, with the catch that we help you bring inmates to Hellshire and fill the greedy man's pockets", Walsh muttered. "Said he'd heard about your endeavors at Demon's Cliff, thought you might need some more men at your side. Told us to find you out here."

The man inside the cabin, called Jack, came back outside and walked past Caleb while waving a piece of parchment in his face.

"Bank robbers, up in Forth John. Two days ride."

Caleb grabbed the paper and examined it. As Jack had said, it was a wanted poster offering 2,000 dollars for whomever caught the bank robbers of Forth John, dead or alive. He guessed in their case they had to go for them alive, and bring them to Hellshire. Jack took a step over the dead body of the shot boy and grunted.

"Pardon my itchy fingers, there", he said and pointed at the body. "Though you clearly had it under control, I thought I'd give you a hand. Partner."

He gave Caleb a grin, showing off a gold tooth. A peculiar boy, this one, Caleb thought. He seemed a bit younger than himself, probably around his thirties. Caleb thought he remembered seeing him sometimes in the common room in Hellshire. He eyed the men in front of him.

"So, you're all released from Hellshire, then?" he asked. "How do I know you're not just going to blow my head off in my sleep?"

"Don't see why that would benefit us right now", Walsh said with a small grin. "Warden will know if we try to evade the deal, no use minimizing our little posse and put ourselves in deeper shit, wouldn't ya agree?"

Caleb looked back at the wanted poster in his hand. Forth John, eh? He put the poster inside his coat, and Jack asked:

"So, you ready to go?"

Caleb looked at the men, all ready and horse bound. This was really happening, then?

"Just let me get my things", he said and turned around to walk inside the cabin.

There he packed his remaining cans of beans into a bag, together with a can of coffee beans, some tools and a knife.

"I got the gin already!" he heard Jack shout from outside, and he growled in frustration to himself.

If he were to work with these men, some discipline had to be established. He wandered outside and to the back of the cabin where he had Blackie tied, and tied his bag to her saddle. Wouldn't need to repair the stall for her, it seemed. He placed the shotgun on his back and saddled the horse, riding out to the front of the cabin to meet the boys.

"Let's get going, then", he said, gaze wandering over the men before he took the lead and urged on Blackie.

They rode out from the valley and headed north, the early noon sun warming their backs.

The ride towards Forth John got cut short thanks to the robbers crossing paths with Caleb and the men around the Great Rock Valley. A gunfight broke out, but it was a quick one since there were only three of the robbers and almost a dozen of them. Caleb got to use his speargun on one of the robbers, and this time the guts didn't spill out. At first. But as he reeled the man in, the frightened robber tried resisting and getting himself free, which resulted in Caleb pulling the chain harder, causing the harpoon to jerk halfway out from the man's back before Caleb could catch him and bind him. As he wrestled the man to tie him down, he accidentally tugged on the harpoon, forcing it through the man's rib cage from the inside out. The man stopped struggling and Caleb got up from the ground with an irritated grunt, wiping the blood of his face.

"Close one, this time..." he mumbled to himself and got the harpoon out from the dead man's chest.

As he dried off the gun quickly with his coat arms, he looked up and saw half of the men staring at him.

"That's one neat lookin' gun", Jack said in an impressed tone. "Got a name for her?"

Caleb squinted at him, drying off some more blood from his face, then reset the harpoon into the barrel of the gun.

"The Redeemer."

This gun would help him get his life back on track, after all. In some twisted way. They tied up the two other robbers, looted the dead one's body and left him behind as they rode towards Hellshire Penitentiary to claim their pay and deliver the robbers. Caleb didn't think the warden would miss one of the robbers, they could say they only found the two of them anyways. As they rode through the desert, the men were chatting and laughing amongst themselves, talking about Hellshire times and what the future would hold for them. Caleb was riding in front, alone, and mostly kept quiet whilst keeping his eyes and ears sharp in case they ran into any trouble along the way. Suddenly he could hear a horse coming up behind him, and as he looked to his left he saw Jack riding up next him.

"Deep in thought?" he asked, and Caleb gave him a faint smile.

"Not really, just keepin' an eye out."

Jack adjusted his hat to keep the setting sun out of his eyes, and Caleb threw a quick glance over at him as he did. He was a strongly built man, probably one who could handle himself well in a brawl. The red hair fell over his back, almost seeming to be in flames in the evening sunlight. He sported some sort of tattoo on his neck, but Caleb couldn't make out what it was from this distance.

"You were at Hellshire for along time, right?" Jack asked, and Caleb quickly got pulled out of his thoughts.

"15 years", he answered and turned his gaze forwards. "Had lost all hope of ever getting out by the point the warden approached me with his offer."

Jack hummed, then asked:

"What sent ya in there in the first place?"

To this, Caleb was quiet for a while before grunting and saying: 

"Had a dispute with the boss. Punched his face in and he still managed to survive somehow. Warden's promised to get him locked up for good."

He turned towards Jack.

"What's your story then, boy?"

Jack squinted at the sun and scratched his nose.

"Robbed a bank, or two. Beat up the sheriff once he tried to arrest me, all in self defense but the judges don't listen to that."

Caleb chuckled slightly.

"That they don't", he agreed.

They rode in silence for a while, listening to the wildlife around them and the rest of the men still chattering amongst themselves. Then Jack cleared his throat and asked:

"Got anyone waiting for ya?"

Caleb gave him a look that said "mind your own business, boy", but still decided to respond.

"Not after 15 years I don't."

Jack nodded.

"Fair enough."

Caleb wanted to ask Jack the same, but they got interrupted by Walsh riding up to them.

"It's gettin' dark soon, we better make up camp and continue tomorrow. Someone needs to guard the robbers during the night."

Caleb nodded.

"We'll take turns."

When they got to Hellshire the next day, the warden was pleased that they had worked so quickly to retrieve the robbers. He didn't mind the missing one and paid them fairly for their work. He informed them of a murder in a town down South, and told them to seek out the suspected criminals in question. They rode off again, and with the gold pennies clinking in his pocket, Caleb felt pretty good about himself. Maybe it wasn't exactly honest work, but it was work and it was going to get him the revenge on Bayshore he so dearly sought. And what even was "honest work"? Was it the kind of work where you got bossed around by some big, rich pig who only used you for his own profit? Was it the kind of work where you beavered away day in and day out, without getting any recognition for your hard work until you dropped dead one day and got replaced the next? Whatever path Caleb was on now, it was the only one for him now, the only one that could guarantee him some sort of life outside of Hellshire, and he wasn't going to pass up on this opportunity. He wasn't going to pass up on the chance to finally use his skills to the fullest, to finally get back at the world for all the years of being beaten down and spat on by everyone. He was going to make a name for himself, one way or another.

They found the murderer and his companion soon enough, and after a wild fight delivered them to Hellshire in some kind of acceptable condition. During their search for the murderers, they had caught news of a new set of robbers just outside of the town they were staying in then. And so their work continued directly after dropping off the murderers at Hellshire. For six years they roamed the land, catching criminals and bringing them to justice. And they had sure made a name for themselves. They were now recognized as the Hellshire Gang and Caleb had earned the nickname The Deathslinger, thanks to his prototype of the speargun that pulled many a guts out on the dusty roads before he managed to perfect it fully. He didn't mind this nickname, in fact he quite enjoyed it. It brought fear into people's eyes, a fear that he reveled in. They managed to pick up quite a lot of enemies along their path, everything from relatives of criminals to big gangs with connections all over the nation. They lost one member during a hard winter, when they got ambushed in a mountain pass by a notorious gang from the area. Liam was his name, and Caleb saw that they got their revenge on each one of the gang members. During one bloody shootout, Caleb got wounded in his leg and was left lying on the floor of the saloon. He would have kicked the bucket that day, if it hadn't been for Jack finding him and getting him to safety. He brought him to a field doctor, who put Caleb through a very painful operation that resulted in him getting a metal cast around his leg to help him walk. From that day on, Caleb had a limp to his walk that brought out alot of funny remarks from his fellow gang members the first couple of months. He got into a fist fight with McCarthy one evening, and after he'd beaten the man almost unconscious the teasing stopped. When Caleb broke his jaw the next year in another shootout, none of his men dared tease him for his ugly mug during recovery. Caleb had gotten quite close to some of the members over the years, but the one man he felt most of a connection to was Jack. The red head seemed to always know just what to say to make Caleb feel better whenever he had a bad day, and Caleb had come to enjoy his company quite alot. He had told Jack about his life before Hellshire, about Zarina. He hadn't managed to tell him about the letter telling about his child, he didn't think he'd ever be ready to tell about that grief to anyone. Talking about it opened up the wound again, the wound he had worked so hard on closing with thoughts of revenge and blood.

One night, whilst the gang were on the hunt for the last member of the Mason Kelly gang, Caleb was sharing a tent with Jack as per usual by now. He had slept real bad the last couple of nights, and tonight was no exception. Tossing and turning in his bedding, he finally woke up in sweats, quickly sitting up from the ground.

"Another nightmare?" he heard Jack mumble, and he let out a deep sigh and laid on his back.

"Could say that."

He put his arm over his eyes, trying to calm himself down from seeing Zarina in his dreams once again. Jack was silent for a moment, then Caleb heard him shuffle under his covers, probably turning to face him.

"First months in Hellshire I had dreams about a boy I was sweet on before getting locked up. Pained me like the devil, those dreams, thought I'd go insane."

Caleb perked up a bit at the mention of a boy. He'd always taken Jack for a true ladies man, guess that just showed how bad he could be at knowing people. He removed the arm from his forehead and looked at Jack.

"How'd you know I dreamt of Rina?" he asked, receiving a shrug and a lazy smile.

"I figured. I know the sounds a man makes when he longs for something."

Caleb studied the red head man. He turned on his elbow and scoffed slightly.

"Do you now, son?"

Jack met his gaze and turned on his elbow as well, they were now facing each other with only a few centimeters between them.

"I pride myself in it", Jack grinned, eyes fluttering down to Caleb's lips.

Caleb felt a tingle in his stomach, deep down. When did it get this warm in the tent? He saw Jack lean in just a bit closer, green eyes still fixated on his.

"I also take pride in knowing just the way to ease a tense man who's not sleeping well", he mumbled, and now Caleb noticed the tingle had spread down to his crotch.

He shifted a bit where he laid, releasing a small breath he hoped didn't sound too trembling and smiled at Jack.

"Is that so, green eyes?"

He felt Jack's breath on him the next second, smelled the tobacco as his lips pressed against his own. The boy had a strong kiss, yet soft lips that made Caleb melt inside. He pulled Jack tightly to him, embracing him as their kiss deepened to tongue wrestling inside each other's mouths. Jack pressed his crotch against the hard bulge inside his drawers, and Caleb let out a grunt and felt the other man smile in the kiss. Suddenly Jack retracted from Caleb's lips, only to give him a devilish smirk and move down to unbutton his drawers. Caleb laid on his back as Jack pulled down his drawers and took his hard cock in his hands. The next second his lips surrounded the head of his cock, and Caleb let out a stuttering sigh as the other man started caressing his cock with his lips and tongue. God, this felt so good. Caleb had been with some ladies at the saloons they'd stop at from time to time, but this felt so different. So much better, somehow. Jack knew just the spots to make him grunt in pleasure, he knew where to bite and tease to make him see stars. As he quickened his pace, the red head bobbing up and down on Caleb's cock, Caleb grabbed his hair and helped him out until he released hot cum down the other man's throat with a growl. He laid for a moment, catching his breath, as Jack swallowed his load and dried his mouth with a grin.

"What did I say?" he smiled, and Caleb chuckled and dried some sweat from his forehead.

"You sure weren't lyin', boy", he said. "Don't know when I've last felt this relaxed."

Jack snickered and laid down beside Caleb, who held his arm around him and put the cotton covers back over them. Caleb wasn't actually surprised this had happened after all these years, he and Jack had always had a connection that had been hard to put a finger on. He had never really felt anything like this towards another man before, but even old dogs could change. They laid like that for the rest of the night, snuggling close and talking until they finally fell asleep. Caleb was free of nightmares that night.

The morning wake up call wasn't as pleasant as the night had been. The sound of a gunshot rang through the valley, and Caleb was immediately up from his bed.

"The hell was that?" Jack barked, quickly rising to his feet as well.

"We've been found!" Caleb yelled, grabbing his Redeemer and bursting out from the tent.

The rest of the boys where already outside, shooting away at their attackers. Caleb cast himself down behind a large rock and loaded his gun, then he peeked out with the barrel ready and looked for the bastards. One came riding down the hill just ahead of him, and when he was in reach Caleb fired the harpoon straight into his thigh and snatched him away from his horse. He heard a shot being fired next to him, and the man stopped moving where he lay. Caleb looked over and saw Jack reloading, giving him a quick smirk and then getting out from behind the rock to shoot the next man who was already approaching them at their hide out. This man fell dead to the ground as well.

"Jack!" Caleb suddenly yelled, trying to warn the red head about the rugged looking man approaching him from behind another rock.

The man grabbed Jack from behind and just as Caleb was about to intervene, he felt a slash at his elbow. He screamed in anger and turned around, piercing his attacker on his spear instantly. He turned around to Jack and his attacker in time to see a knife flash, hear a growl of anger and see the attacker fall down to his knees. Jack towered over him, putting his knife straight through the man's head with a determined thrust and jerking it out as the man fell dead to the ground. He turned around and looked at Caleb, who just stared at him unable to hide his impression.

"That's all of them!" Kelly called out, and silence laid itself over the area once again.

As the men looted their attackers' bodies, Mulligan shouted for Caleb to come take a look at one body in particular.

"Found this on 'im", he grunted and handed a polished coin to him.

Caleb studied the coin and sighed. He knew what type of men carried around these coins in their pockets.

"Ryan Byrne's men. We need to get moving!" he shouted to the rest of the men. "Loot the bodies and pack up your tents!"

So Byrne wanted revenge for the Serpentgorge shootout? Caleb had guessed he'd send his boys on them sooner or later. He didn't anticipate them to find them out here, though, so now they had to get a move on if they were to find the last of Kelly's boys before they had to deal with Byrne's boys. 

"You hurt, Sweeney?" he asked as he saw the man limping past him towards his tent.

"Bastard got me in the leg", Sweeney grunted and sat down on a rock. "It's nothing."

Caleb sat down and took a quick look at the wound. The bullet had hit right above the knee, tearing up a deep wound on it's way.

"It sure as hell don't look like nothing", he mumbled, then got up and called on Jack.

"We got anymore whiskey? Need to clean this wound."

"Afraid not", Jack said while walking up to them. "We're getting pretty dry, the lot of us."

"Just give me a knife and I'll get the bullet out", Sweeney grunted, but Caleb cut him off.

"That shit's going to get infected, you bloody gump. Not going to loose you to a gunshot wound."

He looked around at the rest of the men, all busy packing their stuff. They weren't too far away from Wryport, if they went into town and got some whiskey and tools they could patch up Sweeney and have him moving again by noon. Caleb wasn't going to let his oldest gang member succumb to an infected wound.

"Jack! Mulligan! We're heading into Wryport, getting some supplies", he called out, forcing Sweeney to sit back on his rock. "Don't you touch that wound until we're back."

They got up on their horses and galloped away from the camp, heading towards Wryport. It wasn't a long ride, and they rode into town before the sun had even completely risen.

"Head on into the liqueur shop", Caleb told Jack and Mulligan once they were off their horses, "I'll see if they have anymore bullets for the guns."

As Jack and Mulligan ventured off into the streets, Caleb had just bound Blackie to a fence and was about to head off towards the gun shop, as he heard a man call out:

"Fareed! Get your ass out there!"

He turned around and saw a young man come out from a house to his right, dark brown eyes meeting his as he quickly walked up to him.

"Need me to groom the horse while yer out, mister?" he asked. "For an extra copper I'll get her fed, too."

Caleb stared at the boy, and slowly felt his throat go dry. The boy looked to be in his late teens, with dark locks falling into his eyes and a skinny face with defined cheekbones. Caleb swallowed and cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his ability to speak.  
"You... have an interesting name, son", he said, and the boy tilted his head a little.

"My mother was Lebanese, sir", he responded.

Caleb could have sworn his heart stopped for a second. It was as if the world around him slowed down and came to a stop, and the boy in front of him was all he could see now. He stared at the boy, who looked confused, and swallowed again. This couldn't be, it couldn't.

"Where... Where is your mother, now?" he asked, feeling his heart starting to beat again, loudly.

"She died when I was five, sir", the boy responded. "Fever got her. Mr. Baker took me in, I'm his apprentice."

A loud bang was heard through the town, but Caleb didn't hear it. He didn't take his eyes of the boy, but he was unable to speak another word. Fareed. It couldn't be. This couldn't be true. A faint, strange feeling took a hold of his heart and spread throughout his chest. It was a swelling feeling, almost painful. He thought someone called out his name, but he wasn't sure. He didn't care, either. If this boy really was... Then why would he care about anything else in the world, ever again? He took a deep breath and moved one step closer to the boy.

"Your mother, was she named... Zarina?"

The boy furrowed his thick eyebrows at him, but didn't answer.

"Caleb, we need to go!"

A sudden, forceful jerk at his shoulder got him out of his dream like state, and he turned around to meet Jack's gaze.

"I ran into some old 'friends', we need to move, now!" he said and the next second a gunshot blared through the air.

"Come back here, you Irish rat!"

Caleb saw a couple of men come running out of a building a few houses away, clearly on the hunt for Jack. Jack swore and ran up to his horse and quickly untied her.

"Caleb, come on!" he yelled.

Caleb quickly turned around back to the boy, but he only got a last meeting with the dark eyes before the boy turned around and hurried back inside his house, shutting the door behind him.

"Wait!" Caleb yelled, but it was too late.

The kid was gone. Another gunshot, this time flying past way too close to his ear. He needed to move, he needed to leave. The swelling feeling in his chest was almost nearly choking him, but he needed to leave. He had chosen his life, and it was this, this happening right now. Not the boy inside the house. When he heard Jack and Mulligan galloping away on their horses, he forced his legs to start moving again. In one swift leap he was back at Blackie, untying her and getting up in her saddle. With a last look at the house the boy had disappeared into, he urged on the mare and rode off to join up with the others. Jack and Mulligan took care of the shooting, and eventually they managed to shake their followers off themselves. As they came back to camp, Caleb had managed to shake off the strong, pressuring feeling in his chest as well, and all that remained was the same kind of emptiness that he had felt so many years ago, when Zarina had left him in the sheriff's cell back in Glenvale. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter this time, to make up for the boring thing that was last chapter lmao! I have one more chapter planned to round things up, hyype!


	8. Grave of Glenvale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hellshire Gang travel to Rattlepass in search for their newest bounty. Caleb is pained by the day's happenings, but urges on. They learn their bounty is hiding out in Glenvale, and they set off to Caleb's old home town. Caleb is uncertain of the return to Glenvale, he feels like something bad is going to happen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, it's really been more than a month since I last updated this? Welp, here it is, the grand finale! It's a longer chapter than any of the others, so I hope it doesn't displease <3

Zarina was dead. His wife was dead. His son lived as an apprentice to a man in Wryport. Caleb had taken into consideration that he might have been mistaken, maybe this Fareed boy wasn't his son but this was all just a coincidence. But a man's gut feelings aren't to be taken lightly, and Caleb's guts had wanted to flee out from his stomach when he had met the boy's dark eyes. It had been him, it had been his son, he knew it. And that meant Zarina was dead, that she had died five years after he'd been put into prison. Why hadn't she left the country, as she had written in her letter? What had happened? Where had she given birth to their son, had she been alone all those years as she had raised him? So many questions and painful thoughts were flying through Caleb's skull, he felt like he was going to be sick. He took another sip from the whiskey bottle in his shaky hand, eyeing Mulligan and McCarthy as they patched up Sweeney's leg after removing the bullet.

"That's good, get off me now, I don't need no more pamperin'..." the old man muttered and shooed away the boys to finish tying the bandage himself.

"You alright there, Caleb?"

Caleb jumped slightly and looked up at Jack, who sat down beside him. He couldn't muster up a real response, so he just grunted and took another sip from his whiskey. He felt Jack's eyes on him, but stubbornly ignored the red head.

"Alright, then", Jack finally said, and suddenly Caleb felt him put his hand over his. "We should get going, Sweeney's lookin' alright to move along now. Want to find that boy of Mason Kelly as soon as possible, don't ya reckon?"

Caleb clenched his jaw a bit, still not looking at Jack. In one swift motion he swept his hand away from Jack's and stood up straight.

"Pack it up, boys, we're continuing", he grunted towards the gang, quickly heading over to check on Sweeney one last time before they got him up on his horse.

He didn't look back at Jack. He didn't have time or strength to start feeling all mushy now. He had to focus, they still had criminals to hunt down. When they had packed their stuff they got on their horses and rode West. They had picked up a rumor that the last of Kelly's boys were hiding out in a small town called Rattlepass, about a days ride from where they were currently. They took two breaks during the journey there, and on both these breaks Jack tried in vain to talk to Caleb.

"If you'd only tell me what's suddenly botherin' you, I could help!" Jack snarled during the second brake.

Caleb scoffed at him and watched Blackie as she drank the last water from his bottle.

"Ain't nothing you can do here, son", he mumbled, putting the bottle back in his belt and reaching for his tobacco.

He opened the can and put a lump of chewing tobacco in his mouth, and as he put the can back in his pouch he heard Jack shift a bit where he stood.

"Kid looked a bit like you", he said, and Caleb's eyes snapped up to meet his. "The kid you talked to in Wryport. Had your nose."

How did the fucker always figure out what he was thinking? Caleb felt his heart spike with rage, and the next second he had grabbed Jack's collar and pulled him inches to his own face.

"I'll make sure your nose gets bashed into your face if you keep puttin' it where it don't belong!" he spat at the man, drilling his gaze into the shocked, green eyes.

Jack pushed him away without a word, gave him a last stare and then went back to his own horse. Caleb was left staring at his back, breathing a bit heavier than usual. He would have expected getting punched, or at least cursed out, but Jack had only given him a silent look. A look that in itself said more than any fists could have done. Caleb swallowed hard and turned around, trying to calm himself down. They had work to do, people to find. Focus, dammit! He held his breath for a moment to slow down his pulse, then released it in a heaving sigh as he got up in the saddle on Blackie. The others were already moving again when he finally managed to get going.

When they got to Rattlepass, they decided to spend the evening in the small saloon in town, see if they could pick up any rumors about the man they were hunting. The moment they barged into the saloon, the few customers that were there went silent and the bartender looked at them in shock. That's what Caleb liked to see, people trembling at the sight of the Hellshire Gang. It managed to brighten his mood a bit. He sat down at the bar with McCarthy and Sweeney and the rest of the boys spread out. Caleb looked the bartender in the eye and gave him a smirk with his broken jaw.

"Misery me..." he heard the poor bastard mumble, and he bent down behind the bar and got back up holding bottles of booze and liquor.

"On the house, gentlemen", he muttered and started pouring them drinks.

The evening went on by, the boys getting drunker and louder while Caleb remained his quiet self. He sat with Sweeney at the bar, listening to the old man talk his heart out as the booze got to him more and more. Sweeney always had some interesting stories to tell, or peculiar thoughts to share for anyone willing to listen. Caleb had to admit he was glad to see today's events hadn't gotten the old man down, he was as perky as ever despite having a hurt leg now. When he started telling the story about his sister-in-law's wedding, Caleb started only listening with one ear, since he had heard this story at least three times before. His gaze started wandering the saloon, checking the rest of the boys, lingering a bit at Jack at the table furthest away, and finally landing on a door at the back of the saloon. He was about to look back at Sweeney, as he heard him nearing the part of the story that required him to respond, but the door opening kept his attention. A scruffy looking man with a white, dirty apron emerged from the back door, closing it behind him with a slam. He held a mop and a bucket in his hands, and Caleb guessed he was some kind of cleaner there. When the man looked up, he met Caleb's gaze and Caleb felt his breath being caught in his throat. He recognized the man, and by the looks of it the man had recognized him as well, because he instantly turned around and headed back for the door he had emerged from. Caleb got up from his seat and in one swift motion he leaped up to the man and grabbed him by the arm. 

"Not so fast!" he grunted, forcing the man to stay put and turn towards him.

The man tried resisting, still tried moving towards the door, but Caleb had him in a strong hold and was not planning on letting go anytime soon. He scoffed as he met the scared eyes of the young man, feeling the boy tremble underneath his hard grip.

"What the hell are you doing here, Emmerson, was it?" he snarled, burying his eyes into those of the boy who he knew had once been a new member of Mason Kelly's gang. "Hiding?"

Emmerson furrowed his eyebrows in irritation, but Caleb could almost smell the fear from him.

"I-I'm done with the gang stuff", he said, casting quick glances over to the bar to see if his boss was listening. "I've turned my life around!"

"I can see that, cleaning a shithole saloon in a shithole of a town", Caleb grinned, spitting his tobacco at the young man's feet and tightening his iron grip on the man's arm. "Thinking you'd hide out here and avoid trouble?"

"I ain't hiding!" Emmerson squealed. "I'm done with all the gang stuff, I said!"

Caleb scoffed and pushed the boy up against the wall behind him, mostly to intimidate him further.

"Done, huh? More like you got your ass beaten over at Scorpion's Chapel when we finally caught Kelly. You boys left me with quite an ugly mug after that night", he added, giving Emmerson a crooked grin with his broken jaw.

The boy's dark grey eyes widened in fear.

"D-Don't hurt me!" he begged. "I know you're seeking John Fisher, I know that's why you came down here!"

At this, Caleb raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. He hadn't thought it would be this easy to make the boy talk.

"Then you surely know where he's hiding, huh?" he asked, not releasing the nervous boy's gaze. 

Emmerson swallowed and looked like he was contemplating his options in the situation. Finally he blinked a few times and quickly mumbled:

"H-He's not here."

"Then where is he, boy?" Caleb growled. "Speak!"

The boy squirmed in his grip, but he refused to loosen it.

"Glenvale. H-He knew you were looking for him so he left Rattlepass early this morn'."

"Glenvale?" Caleb grunted, eyebrows furrowing. "Why Glenvale?"

"I-I don't know! H-He was meeting up with someone, I think... B-But this is all I know, I swear! Please, just let me go on with my new life here, Quinn!"

Caleb mulled over the option, studying the frightened young man who clearly did want to move on from a life of crime. Caleb knew he should let him go, but somewhere deep down he had an itch. A painful, everlasting itch.

"Huh..." he pondered, eyeing the young man. "See, normally I'd probably let your ass stroll along."

He released his grip on the boy, only to reach inside his coat.

"But you see, I've had a real bad day today..."

Before Emmerson could react, he'd pulled out his small revolver that he always kept in his inside coat pocket, and shot the young man in his chest two times. The whole saloon went dead silent and Emmerson dropped to the floor with a loud thud, not moving. Caleb put the revolver back into his coat and turned around to see everyone staring at him.

"Any place to sleep around here?" Caleb grunted and turned his gaze towards the bartender, whose face was as white as a clean sheet.

"We've got room. No need to pay", he poor bastard stuttered out with a small voice, and Caleb chuckled.

"How kind of you. Might just go stretch my legs then."

And with that he headed upstairs to get some rest, listening to the boys continue their evening as if nothing had happened. He smiled to himself as he entered the room at the end of the loft. Killing one of Kelly's men, even if it had been an ex-member, always felt good. Mason Kelly had been a thorn in their sides for a long time, and when they had caught him up in the mountain pass a couple of winters ago, it had been the best day of Caleb's life. Well, the best one since his new life started, at least. He thought nothing more of this, as he could feel a tiny pain come creeping into his chest. Entering the room he'd picked for himself, he closed the creaking door behind him and removed his hat and coat and tossed them on a chair close to him. He sat down in the bed, and removed his boots with a relieved sigh. It must be really late now, he couldn't wait to get some sleep before they headed towards Glenvale tomorrow. Tossing his legs up in the bed, he carefully started removing the metal cast that hold his right leg together these days. He didn't often take it off when they were on the road, too much risk of waking up to a gun fight and having to be on his feet instantly. Removing and putting on the cast took some time, but holy hell did it feel good to get it off from time to time. When he had gotten it off, he put it on the floor underneath the bed and removed his pants. Getting to undress and sleep in a real bed was not often granted to them, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it. When he'd taken off his shirt he put his revolver underneath the pillow and crawled underneath the cotton covers with a pleased sigh. He laid on his back, listening to the rowdy voices and clanking glasses downstairs. After a while he could hear footsteps coming upstairs, and people entering the other rooms and closing the doors behind them. He knew there weren't enough rooms for all of them, and some would have to share. He was kind of hoping Jack would come sleep with him tonight, but since Caleb threatened to smash the man's nose in earlier today, the odds weren't looking too good. Caleb let out a small sigh and got more comfortable in his bed, wishing for sleep to come to him quickly. But no sleep wanted to grace him, it seemed, and soon the saloon downstairs had gone quiet and all of the boys seemed to had gone to sleep. All, except one. Caleb heard faint footsteps coming up the stairs, getting louder as they walked down the hallway and stopped somewhere close to his room. There they remained, not moving, and Caleb was about to finally start falling asleep when he heard the footsteps suddenly approach his door. He rose up on his elbows as the door opened, and a tall figure entered the room by carefully opening the door.

"You awake?" he heard Jack whisper.

He was silent for a few moments, then responded:

"Yeah. What you want?"

He saw Jack close the door behind him and approach the bed, where he sat down with a loud thud, back facing Caleb. 

"Rooms are full", he grunted, and Caleb sighed while laying back down in the bed.

He hadn't thought Jack would actually show up in his room tonight, and now that he was here he didn't know what to say. Part of him wanted to apologize for earlier, but the stubborn part of him forced his mouth to remain shut, waiting for Jack to speak first. The silence laid heavy between them, only disrupted by the occasional loud drunken snores from the men in the other rooms. Caleb lay on his back, staring into the ceiling, casting occasional glances over at the dimly lit figure of Jack on the end of the bed. Caleb could see him carefully glancing over towards him, and soon enough he cleared his throat.

"I, uh... I was a jerk earlier, Caleb", he said, keeping his gaze forward, not looking at Caleb. "I shouldn't have... I know it's none of my business..."

He went silent again, letting out a small sigh and supporting his elbows on his knees. Caleb closed his eyes in frustration, angry at himself for being such an ass to this fine man. He knew he had to make it right, he couldn't hide anywhere now.

"I..." he started, then sighed. "I'm sorry. I was the yack, a real ass."

Jack didn't say anything, and Caleb felt something press against his chest. He took a deep breath but it didn't help, and now he felt the unmistakable tears burning behind his eyelids. He was going to be smothered by this pain, he knew it far too well. He had to release it.

"It was my boy, Jack", he said, voice shaking a bit as he rose to sit in the bed.

Jack looked at him, his face dimly lit up by the moon shining through the window of their room.

"It was my boy..." Caleb said again. "I didn't even know I had-"

That was all that was needed for him to finally break. He felt the tears warm his cheeks and quickly tried wiping them away, but they just kept coming. 

"Fuck!" he grunted, angrily scratching at his face and turning away from Jack. 

He tried moving towards the edge of the bed, but before he could get out he felt Jack grab his hand.

"Hey..." he said, moving closer.

Caleb clenched his jaw until it hurt, trying to keep the tears back to no use. They wet his cheeks and suddenly he felt Jack embracing him in a tight, warm hug.

"Get off!" he yelled, but he didn't put up enough of a fight for the other man to stop holding him.

Eventually his struggles died down and he collapsed in Jack's embrace, sobbing against the other man's shoulder. They remained like that for minutes, maybe hours, Jack just holding Caleb close, like he was afraid of loosing him right then and there. Caleb sobbed and swore into Jack's shoulder, eventually calming down and just remaining in the tight hug, breathing deeply to try and soothe his aching heart. Jack didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. They crawled under the covers and soon fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning they packed up their things and left for Glenvale. When they left the saloon, the bartender was cleaning up the blood downstairs, Caleb guessed he'd been at it all night. Glenvale was about half a days ride, and luckily for the slightly hungover men, the sun wasn't blazing as hot today but instead some light grey clouds covered the sky. Caleb hoped for a bit of light rain, it would be nice with some cooling down once in a while. Most of the men were quiet as they traveled, probably due to last night's drinks, but Caleb and Jack rode in front and had occasional low voiced conversations. They didn't mention last night, to Caleb's relief as he felt a bit embarrassed still, but talked about other things. What they'd do if they actually found Fisher down in Glenvale, what the fastest road would be to take him to Hellshire. As they rode past Greedtrails, a small knot started to form in Caleb's stomach. The closer they got to Glenvale, the more the knot seemed to tighten. He hadn't been back to Glenvale in years, and even though he had his posse with him he felt a bit uncertain about this whole thing. Jack could sense him being tense, and when they finally spotted the Glenvale sign in the horizon, he stopped Caleb and rode up to him.

"Listen", he said, watching as the rest of the men rode ahead of them. "We go in there, find Fisher, bring him to Hellshire. Then you and me go find that boy of yours in Wryport."

Caleb looked at Jack, then stared off at the Glenvale sign with a sigh.

"Can't do that, Jack", he mumbled. "Boy's got a good life for him over there, he doesn't need his lousy outlaw father coming in there and messing things up."

"Then atleast just go and see him", Jack pressed on. "Just talk to him, tell him who you are. You care about him, Caleb, I can see that. Boy deserves to know his old man is alive and thinking of him."

Caleb looked over at Jack, the knot still tight in his stomach as he let out another sigh.

"Boy deserves to know", Jack said again. "I'd done anything to have known my old man, hell if I could have just know his name I'd been better off as a kid. I ain't ever getting that, but your boy still might. Just let him know. Then we'll be off again, back to chasing criminals until Bayshore rots in prison and the Devil comes to bring us all back home."

At this, Caleb couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. He met Jack's gaze with a slight smirk.

"We'll see."

That seemed to be good enough of an answer for Jack, so they urged on their horses and headed into Glenvale while the clouds above their heads darkened the closer they got. When they got into town they were greeted with a tension in the air that was not unlikely to hang around where the Hellshire Gang lay foot. Not many townsfolk were out, most people had already gone indoors and peeked out from their windows at the two men riding down the dusty road. Caleb spotted some of the boys' horses tied outside of the Dead Dawg Saloon, and they jumped off their horses outside of there as well. Caleb gave the saloon sign a quick glance before they entered. He'd been inside the Dead Dawg plenty of times back in the days, sometimes with Zarina and sometimes with the boys from the railroad. It looked the same inside the saloon, tables were on the same places and even the same kind of bottles seemed to be stocked in the shelves behind the bar. As usual the whole building was silent when they entered, but something seemed different here from the other places the Hellshire Gang set foot. Caleb sensed anger in the air, mixed with fear. Some of the boys had already sat down at some tables, Sweeney was over at the poker table dealing cards. They had claimed the space as they always did, but when Caleb sat down at the bar with Jack and met the bartender's gaze, he knew they were not going to be greeted gently here. 

"You have alot of nerves showing your ugly mug here after all these years, Quinn", the bartender, who was known among the townsfolk only as Black-Eyed Joe, muttered.

He drilled his gaze into Caleb's, his good eye not failing to convey the disdain blossoming inside him. Caleb snorted and looked around where he sat. Some of the customers he recognized, others were unfamiliar. But they all stared him down with either fear or disgust. Jack didn't have time for bullshitting around, so he cheekily put out his revolver on the table and stared Joe dead in the eye.

"We're looking for John Fisher", he said. "We know he's hiding out here, the little rat. Warden over at Hellshire has sent an invite to him and he hasn't yet responded."

Black-Eyed Joe spat at his feet in contempt and reached down behind the bar to pull out a shotgun that he held by his side to show them they weren't the only one's armed. 

"I know what you low lives do", he grunted. "You terrorize towns with your brutish ways, you're just a bunch of outlaws hiding behind a corrupt prison warden."

Caleb couldn't help but smirk at this comment, as he knew Joe was right. It couldn't matter less, however. He leaned in close and mumbled:

"Tell us where Fisher is, Joe. Nothing needs to get messy over that little rat."

Joe took a firm grip on his shotgun and cocked it.

"He ain't here, Quinn. You can take your little posse and leave town right away, we don't want you here."

Caleb stretched out where he sat, getting up from the chair but making no move to leave the saloon.

"I know, Joe", he said. "I know this town hasn't wanted me in years, hell, maybe ever!"

He tapped lightly on his Redeemer that he had tied to his back, and enjoyed seeing Joe's eyes darting to it with uncertainty. 

"But you must be a real slow one if you think that's going to stop me from getting my work done", Caleb continued. "And I'll be getting my work done here, and I'll make sure non other than the Devil himself will stop me, mark my words. Now..."

He took the Redeemer off his back and placed a bullet in the chamber all while eyeing Joe.

"You're gonna tell me where Fisher is hiding, or you'll be met with a fierce reckoning. What shall it be?"

The air around them seemed to stand still completely, as the two men met each other's gaze, both resting their hands on their weapons ready to strike at any moment. Then suddenly, a sharp voice called out from the outside:

"He's getting away!"

Caleb recognized the voice as McCarthy's, and instantly broke off from the stare off with Joe to turn heels and rush towards the saloon doors. Just as he was about to rush out the doors, a loud shot broke the wall only inches from his head. He turned around again to see Joe aiming his shotgun at him, but before he could fire off another bullet, Jack had taken a shot at him and made him fall down to the ground. The next second, the folks in the saloon stood up and the shooting was in full force. Caleb rushed out the saloon doors and into the streets, where he saw McCarthy and Sweeney shooting at a man riding away from the scene. Caleb readied his Redeemer, took aim and fired. He hit the man in the back and dragged him along the dusty road towards him, but the bastard managed to tear himself loose from the spear before he could get a hold of him. As the man rose to his feet, Caleb saw that this was indeed John Fisher, and with a grin he reloaded quickly. A shot that blew his hat off made him turn around and see a couple of men barging out from a building to his right. Byrne's men. The Fisher boy had managed to get some friends to protect him, it seemed. All the more fun, Caleb thought and ducked behind a barrel as another shot was fired towards him. He aimed down Fisher again, but the rat had limped away into cover and he had to shoot at Byrne's men instead. He caught one of them and as he reeled him in close, he stuck his bayonet right through the man's eye and pierced the skull. The gunshots rained down in the town, dust rising from the ground and making it harder to spot the enemies. Caleb heard the commotion inside the saloon still going strong, and prayed silently that Jack had gotten back up. Here on the outside he was joined by more and more of his men, and together they fired down the bastards one by one. Screams of terror rang from the townsfolk, and Caleb almost felt a bit of remorse for the poor bastards caught up in this whole mess. But there was nothing he could do about that, he never could. So he set off to find Fisher, sneaking behind the buildings and shooting down attackers with his revolver or spearing them with the bayonet. He found the man hiding behind the laundry shack, tending to his wounds. Caleb aimed, speared him, reeled him in and was about to start tying him down when the bastard took a lunge at his bad leg with a knife. The pain speared through his leg like fire, and he screamed and was stunned for a few moments. That's when Fisher lunged again, this time towards his face. Caleb managed to halt his attack mid air with his bayonet, and as he stared into the Fisher boy's eyes he saw only fear. This weak moment would have made any good man reconsider, but Caleb had never been a good man. He struck his bayonet straight through Fisher's mouth and fired off without hesitation. The spear flew through the poor man's skull, spilling brains and blood over Caleb where he lay underneath him. When Fisher had stopped moving, Caleb tossed him off of him and pulled out the spear from the skull with a sickly sound. He reset it before collapsing on the ground from the pain from his leg. He took deep breaths, forcing his conscious to stay with him. The gunshots echoed through his head, the screams rang like sirens in the distance. His vision started getting blurry, but he forced himself to focus on the pain in the leg, pouncing at the wound to keep himself from fainting. He laid there, behind the shack, for what felt like ages, unable to move an inch due to the immense pain. Why had the fucker had to go for his leg?

"Caleb!"

The sharp voice woke him up from his daze, and he forced himself to lean against the shack and try to get up on his good leg. He saw Jack and Sweeney approaching him, and soon they were next to him helping him to stand. Sweeney spilled some whiskey into his wound and tied his dirty handkerchief around the wound to stop the bleeding. Then they helped him limp into the saloon again, where only dead folks laid around.

"How's it looking?" Caleb asked as he sat down at a table and started reloading his Redeemer.

"Couple of Byrne's men are hiding out in the West side", Sweeney reported. "The rest of the boys are dealing with them."

They remained inside the saloon, sniping anyone who entered to attack them. The hours went by, and as the sun started to set outside, the rest of the Hellshire Gang gathered in the saloon. The town was dead quiet by now, the dead outnumbering the living and the vultures starting to gather outside to feast. The gang tended to their wounds and pepped each other up with some liquor from the bar. The stench of blood and death filled the saloon, but it was a smell they were all used to by now.

"I saw you pierced our bounty in the head, Quinn", Sweeney chuckled at Caleb, who gave him a small smirk. 

"We've got some of Byrne's men still alive, tied up outside", O'Sullivan said. "Could take them to Hellshire instead, bound to get some payment for those bastards too."

They packed up, got some liquor and ammo for the road, and walked out from the Dead Dawg Saloon into the evening. A light rain had started to fall, quickly wetting the dusty roads. As the boys readied up the horses, Caleb eyed a body laying a few meters away from them. He limped towards it, and recognized the dead eyes staring back up at him instantly. Sheriff Goldman. Caleb chuckled and spat at his corpse, pleased that they had managed to get the bastard as a bonus. He bent down and searched the man's pockets, finding a can of the good tobacco the bastard had spat on his feet so many years ago. Caleb opened the can and put some of the dark leaves into his mouth, relishing at the sweet and tangy taste. Now he would survive the pain in the leg for a couple of hours atleast. As he was about to turn around and walk back to the boys, he saw something else on the ground, by the sheriff's feet. A wet piece of paper, halfway buried in the mud. It appeared to be a newspaper, and the headline that was halfway dirtied up by the mud screamed up at him: "Bayshore purchases..." Caleb felt the tiny knot in his stomach re emerge, and he quickly bent down to pick up the paper. Cleaning it off and straightening it out, he now saw the full headline and the image accompanying it. "Henry Bayshore purchases Hellshire Penitentiary." The knot took a sharp twist in his stomach. He stared down at the image underneath the headline, where a smiling, disfigured Bayshore shook hands with none other than the prison warden, mr. Jackson. Caleb felt his pulse rising, his whole body becoming instantly warmer.

"It can't be..." he mumbled, voice trembling as much as his hands as he stared down at the newspaper.

How could this be? How could he have been this stupid, again? He had been sold out, a pawn in a rich man's game. Just like before. His heart started pounding with rising rage, his blood swelling as if it was to burst from his veins. Suddenly the pain from his hurt leg was gone, and the only thing remaining in his body now was pure rage. He screamed, yelled his lungs out and swore into the cold evening air.

"The hell's the matter?" he heard the boys yell, and some of them came up to him.

He turned around, eyes blaring and fist clenching the newspaper into a ball in his fist.

"Warden's sold the prison to Bayshore", was all he said before limping towards the horses and throwing the newspaper down on the ground.

"'Henry Bayshore purchases Hellshire Penitentiary", he heard Jack read from the newspaper. "Caleb, where are you going?"

Caleb forced himself up on Blackie and looked down on the men.

"I'm going to end the sorry fucker's life, as I should have done years ago. I'm going to make them all pay, once and for all."

He didn't expect them to follow him, or even understand.

"Hellshire gang's expired, boys", he muttered and got ready to urge on his horse. "Get out of here."

But before he rode off, he cast one last glance over at Jack. To his confusion, he saw the man smile at him and walk towards his own horse to untie it.

"You must be a real slow one if you think we're not gonna help you finish the job, Caleb", he said, getting up in the saddle as the rest of the men followed suit and started untying the horses.

Caleb stared at them in disbelief. Why would they do this, for him? 

"You don't have to-"

"We know, Quinn", Sweeney said, as he got up on his own horse. "But we're not about to leave a brother behind in his time of need."

The rest of the men got up on their horses and the gang gathered around Caleb, awaiting his orders.

"We're with you, Quinn", McCarthy said, and O'Sullivan filled in:

"Until the end."

Caleb watched his men ready up to join him on his new quest. In all of his life, he had never thought anyone would be willing to sacrifice their own life for him. For once, the rage in his own heart was mirrored in the others' and they didn't back down. The rain had gotten heavier, wetting their clothes and cooling down their aching wounds. The only thing remaining was rage, and as the adrenaline started pumping through Caleb's body once again, the pain from his hurt leg was gone completely. He was going to end Bayshore's sorry life, and this time he wasn't going to be alone.

"Alright then", he said, gaze quickly wandering over the boys and stopping on Jack. "Let's go serve some justice, boys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hnnghhhhh well there ya have it, folks! This story kept on longer than I had first planned, and some of the chapters are boring fillers due to this buttttt I hope I didn't disappoint to much with the finale. I ofc wanted to mention Jack's and Caleb's plan to visit Fareed, only to have it ripped away from them cus I'm that evil >:D needless to say, they're gonna head off to Hellshire after this, cause some ruckus and then not the Devil, but the Entity, comes to take Caleb away. Maybe I'll one day write what happens once he is stuck in the Entity's realm, who knows ;) 
> 
> I wanna thank everyone who's left supporting comments, it has kept me going with this story! <3 Stay safe, until next time!


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